


Hear Me Cry

by Aerys_Krystie



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Belonging, Eventual Happy Ending, Existential Crisis, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Getting to Know Each Other, Hurt/Comfort, Literal existential crisis, M/M, Slow Burn, Starting Over, learning from each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:27:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 14
Words: 78,759
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27818281
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aerys_Krystie/pseuds/Aerys_Krystie
Summary: Jackson finally got what he wanted. He's a werewolf. So why are there so many problems with the newest wolf? Derek needs answers, but he's not sure he wants them.Teaching someone to feel again was never in the alpha werewolf handbook. Things can't get any worse...until another pack rolls into town...and a wendigo shows up...and a haunted painting.After that, things can't get any worse.
Relationships: Allison Argent/Isaac Lahey, Derek Hale/Jackson Whittemore, Vernon Boyd/Erica Reyes
Comments: 21
Kudos: 43





	1. Emotionless

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

 **Theme:** AU—Jackson doesn’t leave.

 **Plot:** Jackson thought everything would be perfect, waking up as a werewolf. He’s starting to wonder why he should ever let himself hope.

 **Warnings:** Slash, language, training violence and regular violence.

 **Disclaimer:** Everything of and referring to _Teen Wolf_ is not mine. This is a fan-based, non-profit story. Please support the official release.

* * *

Sitting in a tree, Jackson Whittemore watched as the sun slowly sank. He pulled his knees closer to his chest, forcing his mind to remain blank. He could hear the others on the forest floor, looking for him. He was always the last found. Hiding himself was the one thing he was good at. His defense left a lot desirable, though. Erica had kicked his ass every chance she got.

A howl sounded through the forest and Jackson winced, his neck aching. Not his entire neck, just where Derek Hale had clawed him. Whenever Derek howled, Jackson always felt those claws back in there, demanding he listen. If he was being honest, that was the one thing he missed about being the kanima – ignoring Derek.

Jackson waited until the others were with the alpha, before he slipped of the branch he was on. He climbed down as fluidly as he climbed up. He joined the others and ignored the way Derek glared at him, clearly angry that he had taken his time.

Tilting his head, Jackson gazed back. Chewing him out in front of the others seemed one of Derek’s favorite pastimes. He waited patiently, knowing the longer he held the gaze of the alpha, the more irritated Derek would become. A minute later, the red flashed in his eyes and Jackson nodded, turning his eyes to setting sun.

“Can someone tell me why they can’t find Jackson? It’s a simple seek and retrieve,” Derek said as he walked around his pack.

Erica growled, turning her angry eyes to Jackson. Boyd and Isaac lowered their eyes, none of them able to think of a reason. As far as all of them knew, it shouldn’t be difficult. Jackson was the youngest werewolf in the pack and he couldn’t explain it. Somehow, his nose worked better than theirs, as he could find all of them. Hell, he could find Derek before any of them.

As the silence stretched on, Derek sighed and shook his head. “Work on it,” he snapped and glanced at the sky. “That’s it for today. I’ll see you all tomorrow.”

Erica and Boyd grinned, walking off together, talking about the burger they were going to devour. Isaac lingered a moment, glancing from Jackson to Derek. Jackson got the hint and shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans. He entered the forest, no idea where he was going. He wanted somewhere that wasn’t home. He couldn’t stand the way his parents looked at him.

Waking up a werewolf was a dream come true. Once he calmed down, his eyes had found his alpha instantly. The next day, Derek was in his bedroom, telling him about control and having an anchor. Jackson had only just woken up and wasn’t entirely sure if he was understand the words spilling from Derek’s mouth. For the first few days, he though Derek wanted him to carry around an actual anchor. It wasn’t until he spoke with Isaac that he realized Derek meant an emotional anchor.

Then he had brought home his report card that had a B- on it. He was unable to curb his anger and his parents saw him. His fear of betraying his secret and the secret of the pack forced back his wolf. His parents didn’t talk to him for two days, but Jackson could hear them talking to each other. He had wanted to ask Derek to help him explain what was happening. He knew the conversation would happen that night and he still didn’t know what to tell them.

Jackson stopped at the river and frowned. He hadn’t been near that since Matt was drowned and quickly shoved that memory to the back of his mind. He couldn’t think of a reason for him being there and went to leave, but froze when he caught a strange scent.

It was earthy, definitely pine and oak and berries. Turning to stare across the river, Jackson searched the deepening shadows. His eyes widened when he saw a bear cub run out of the trees and he stepped back as mama bear was a few steps behind. Knowing he should run and leave them in peace, Jackson found he was rooted.

Mama Bear sniffed at him and Jackson retreated a few more paces, wanting to give her the space she needed. She watched him closely, approaching the river and drinking. Her cub splashed in the water and Jackson couldn’t stop a smile spreading over his face. He often forgot they shared the forest with others and sat down, watching the bears.

Still wary of him Mama Bear fished for herself and her cub. She was patient as she tried to teach her offspring what he needed to do, but the world was his toy for the moment. She dropped a fish on the bank and the cub growled happily, playing with it, before he feasted.

Getting more comfortable, Jackson froze when Mama Bear raised her head and stared at him. He couldn’t understand it, but he felt they had some kind of agreement. If he stayed where he was, he would be fine. Jackson was fine with that arrangement. For the first time in a week, he actually felt peaceful.

The night darkened and the moon provided little light. All too soon, Mama Bear and her cub were wandering back into the shadows. Jackson sighed, knowing he had to return home. He stood and stretched, making his way back to his car. He frowned when he saw Derek there, resting against his Camaro, phone in his hand.

Derek ignored him for a moment, before he turned to face Jackson. “How do you hide from them?” he asked and Jackson frowned, not expecting that.

“I…” Jackson’s frown deepened as he tried to think of any reason. “…don’t know. I don’t even try to hide from them.”

Derek narrowed his eyes slightly, before he nodded. “I want you here an hour earlier tomorrow.”

Jackson nodded and slipped into his car. He started the engine and stared into the forest, his mind entirely on the bears. As far as he knew, grizzly bears were extinct in his State. He figured they had wandered from a habitat set up for them. Unfortunately, that sent a jolt of fear through Jackson, which had Derek spinning around and staring at him through the windshield.

Calming down, Jackson knew none of the werewolves would be dumb enough to take on a bear, especially one that had young. Swallowing thickly, Jackson left the forest and took his time getting home. He ignored the calls from his parents, wondering why they were calling him. It wasn’t that late.

At home, Jackson parked and stared at the house that should be familiar and provide warmth. He frowned, wondering if he ever felt warmth from it. He smiled ruefully when he thought of the only he felt that, when Lydia would come over. When Danny would plant himself on his bed, flipping through magazines. When Derek broke in to tell him about anchors.

Inhaling deeply, Jackson slipped out of the car and locked it. He opened the front door and found his parents waiting for him. Somehow, it surprised Jackson to know that, despite being a werewolf, he was still scared to face his parents after missing their calls. He was led into the kitchen, where that night’s dinner was waiting for him.

As he ate the vegetable stir-fry, his mother sat opposite him. “We need to talk, sweetheart,” she said softly and Jackson nodded. “Is there anything you’d like to tell us?”

Jackson raised his head, his cheeks bulging. He chewed and swallowed quickly, glancing between the tender warmth in his mother’s eyes to his father’s concerned ones. Jackson wondered how much they wanted to know. He wondered how much he could tell them. Could he tell them about the kanima? _Should_ he tell them about that dark period in his life?

Again, Jackson found himself wishing he had spoken with Derek. He didn’t know how to break news like that to regular people. It took him doing his own research to believe what was happening to Beacon Hills. He doubted his parents would know to search for.

As he opened his mouth to say something, anything, there was a knock at the door. Jackson inhaled deeply and turned in his chair as his father answered the door. His father and Derek walked into the kitchen, Jackson staring at Derek the entire time. His parents were familiar with Derek, more so than they should be.

“You told them?” Jackson demanded, not caring that he was accusing Derek of something helpful. He thought it would fall entirely on his shoulders to break the news to his parents.

“I told them that you’re a werewolf, yes,” Derek answered, his eyes hard.

Derek hadn’t told them about the kanima incident. Jackson didn’t know he was going to explain that gap in his life, but he could only pray his parents never asked about it.

“We were told a week ago, Jackson,” his father said. “We weren’t sure if we believed it or not, but when we saw you in the kitchen…”

Derek’s eyes widened. “You wolfed out?”

Jackson shoved his half-finished bowl of food away from him. “I had every right to be angry,” he muttered.

“This had better be a good reason,” Derek said.

“I got a B- in chemistry!” Jackson felt his claws grow and pushed down the anger. “That was one of my _best_ subjects.”

Jackson lowered his head as his mother hugged him. Glancing up at Derek, Jackson saw that he didn’t understand like his parents did. His grades were everything to him. Getting anything less than A was an insult and a blow to his ego, like he wasn’t smart enough, like he wasn’t _good_ enough.

“I’m a werewolf, Mom and Dad,” he said, trying to find an excuse for Derek to leave. He knew that showing up an hour earlier to training tomorrow would be painful.

“We’re glad you could finally tell us,” his mother said as she released him and smiled. “Derek says he’s going to help you understand…whatever it is you need to understand.”

Jackson nodded, keeping his scent neutral. It hadn’t even been a week and Derek already had his parents against him, giving Derek permission to kick the shit out of him. He knew he would be limping home tomorrow and it wouldn’t be because of anything fun.

* * *

The next day, at five in the morning, Jackson was in the forest. He sat on the hood of his car, staring into the dark trees, not seeing or hearing anything, keeping his mind a complete blank. He was early by two hours, but he didn’t care. He played with a leaf and turned his eyes upwards, watching as the sky was slowly lit by the sun.

Derek was speeding through the forest, which broke Jackson from his mindless staring. He hunched down, still playing with the leaf as Derek pulled up beside his car. He could smell Derek’s surprise at him being there so early, but true to his nature, he asked no questions about him being there.

“Why didn’t you tell me you wolfed out on your parents?”

“Because I didn’t. I wolfed out on my report card. They just happened to see me,” Jackson answered, keeping his eyes on the leaf. A birch leaf, he realized, finally noticing the scent.

“Go hide,” Derek said and Jackson remained where he was.

“I don’t have to find you first?”

“I know you can find me. I want to know why the others can’t find you.”

Jackson nodded and slipped his car, walking into the forest. He concentrated of moving through silently, as he didn’t want to make it _too_ easy for Derek. He didn’t bother to hide up a tree, as he knew Derek would find him soon enough, so he kept walking. And walking, and walking.

It wasn’t until his shoes hit pavement that he stopped and looked around. He had managed to clear the forest and reenter the town. The sun was fully risen and Jackson wondered how long he had been walking. His legs weren’t aching, but he wasn’t happy to be around civilization.

Curling his lip back with distaste, Jackson went back into the forest and walked the same path back to his car. He paused when heard movement and realized that hours must have passed. He was walking slowly through the forest, away from Derek. He just wanted the game of hide-and-seek to end, but somehow Derek hadn’t found him, despite walking a straight line.

 _No._ Derek had to be watching him, but Jackson couldn’t feel that. He was completely alone in the forest and he found that he didn’t care. It was nice to enjoy the nature around him, without hearing werewolves running through, trying desperately to find him.

Suddenly, he felt it. The eyes on him and he kept his heartrate normal, not wanting to give anything away. He continued walking and the eyes followed him. It wasn’t Derek, as he would have felt the pull of the alpha being so close to him. He stopped moving and so did whoever was following. He inhaled, stretching his arms above his head, catching Erica’s scent.

Her excitement was reaching its peak point and Jackson knew she would jump him, just so she could drag him back. He was meant to be hiding from Derek and he would be damned if some beta was going to take him back to their alpha. Changing his course, Jackson started making his way towards the river.

The moment he felt a break in the watching eyes, he moved towards his car again. That split second was all it took to fool a beta, who couldn’t track his scent. He frowned as he continued to walk, twirling the leaf by its dried stem. He knew what all of them, Peter included, smelled like. He could pick up their scents all around the town. How were they unable to pick his?

 _Is it…because I’m not pack?_ Jackson frowned as that cut deeply in his chest. He could understand why they wouldn’t accept him. He had threatened all of them, at some stage or another. He had probably killed people they knew or cared about. He looked at his hands. _Maybe I don’t have a scent._ There was another cut. He wasn’t full wolf.

Back at his car, Jackson found he was the only one there. He sat on the hood, staring at the leaf he had carried with him for hours. He had no idea why, but it felt good to keep his hands busy. He was moments from falling into a peaceful place when he heard another heartbeat. Looking up, he found Derek staring at him with an unreadable expression.

“How?” Derek asked as he stepped closer. “Erica said she found you and then lost you, in a literal blink of an eye.”

Listening out for the others that were still lost in the woods, trying to find him, Jackson wondered if he could speak with Derek. Instead of chancing that, Jackson lowered his eyes to the leaf in his hand and shrugged. He couldn’t explain it any better than Derek or Erica. He prided himself on conquering any obstacle in his way, but he usually had a reason for how he could.

“What’s wrong?”

Jackson shook his head, realizing that nothing was wrong. He had found a way to beat all the werewolves and his alpha at his games. Derek hadn’t been able to find him, either. He could go anywhere he wanted during Derek’s hide-and-seek games and no one would ever find him. He _could_ spend that time watching Mama Bear and her cub.

“Nothing,” Jackson finally answered.

Derek howled and Jackson rubbed his neck, wincing. That never hurt that badly before, but Derek had never been that close when he howled before, either. Jackson sighed and dropped his hand, feeling the pain die off to a gentle tingle that ran down his spine.

Erica was the first one back, her eyes wide and furious as she stared at Jackson. “What are you?!” she demanded.

Jackson raised his head and stared back at her for a moment, before he frowned and tilted his head. He had thought about asking her to spar, but knew it wouldn’t end well for him. The others had more training with Derek in that regard and Jackson was wondering if Derek would help him, as he had the others, but so far, nothing had been mentioned.

Instead, Jackson shrugged and dropped his eyes to his hands again. Boyd was the next back, breathing heavily as he stared at Jackson. “How long’s he been back?” he asked.

“Fifteen minutes,” Jackson answered and felt Boyd’s eyes grow hard on him.

“How do you do that, man?” Boyd asked and Jackson kept his eyes down.

Isaac tumbled out of the forest, panting. He mumbled something between breaths of air, gesturing wildly at Jackson and then at Erica. He shook his head, clearly trying to get some kind of order going inside his mind. He straightened and stared at Jackson.

“Erica found you!”

Jackson looked up, seeing a smirk starting to settle on Erica’s face. “Only by sight. I walked by her.”

Derek frowned and turned his attention to Erica. “You didn’t mention that,” he said and Erica tried to say something in her defense.

Eventually, she growled. “It isn’t my fault he doesn’t smell like anything!”

Jackson lowered his head again, figuring he was right. He didn’t have a scent or at least, not one the pack knew. He didn’t know how to offer up his scent to them. He didn’t even know that he didn’t have one.

“Go,” Derek told them and Jackson slid off his car. “Not you.”

Jackson sat on the hood again, listening to the others leave. They were moving away slowly, as though they forgot that both Derek and Jackson could outwait them. It took a while, but eventually, the others were far enough away that they wouldn’t overhear them.

“Look at me, Jackson,” Derek said and Jackson raised his eyes. Derek was directly in front of him. “Why?”

“What? Why what?”

“Why are you hiding your scent from us?”

Jackson frowned, expecting Derek to sound annoyed or angry with him. Instead, he sounded concerned. Jackson wasn’t expecting that, but realized he didn’t have an answer for the alpha. He didn’t know he was doing it.

“I don’t know…how to…” Jackson didn’t know the right wording, but he was hoping Derek understood.

“You learn to _hide_ your scent, not how to reveal it,” Derek said with a frown and Jackson knew he was confused. He could smell that in spades.

Jackson frowned as Derek stepped closer, burying his face into Jackson’s throat. He stayed where he was, waiting until Derek was finished. When he pulled back, Jackson raised his eyebrows expectantly. He wanted to know what Derek had discovered.

“She’s right. You don’t have a scent.” Jackson nodded and lowered his head, feeling Derek’s eyes on him. “You don’t want to scent your alpha?” he asked and Jackson frowned.

“I can smell you fine,” Jackson said, running his thumb and finger along the edge of the leaf. He raised his head when Derek boxed him in. “What?”

“You wolfed out over your report card and you grew claws last night, thinking about your report card.” Derek searched his eyes and Jackson knew he should be feeling something. “Why aren’t you angry about this?”

“I didn’t know I should be.” Jackson stared back at Derek. His eyes dropped to Derek’s mouth for an instant and his neck tingled. “Did you want me to scent you? Would that make you happy?”

Derek frowned and put distance between them, shaking his head. “No. I want _you_ to want it.”

Jackson nodded, dropping his head. “Am I pack?” he asked, staring at the leaf.

Derek was silent for a long while, until he whispered, “I don’t know.”

* * *

Two nights later, Jackson sat at the table with his parents. He stared down at the moussaka his mother had made. It smelled nice, but he had no appetite. He didn’t feel hungry in the slightest and Derek had told him his appetite would double, if not triple.

His parents talked about their day and Jackson knew his father had noticed him staring at his food. He thought back to when Derek showed up, the stir-fry. He had only thought he was hungry. After eating what he did, he didn’t want anymore. He didn’t even want what he did eat.

It was the same last night, for vegetarian lasagna, his favorite dish. He had no desire to eat any of it, despite knowing he should be wolfing it down.

“Aren’t you hungry, Jackson?” his father asked.

Jackson knew his parents were told about his appetite supposedly doubling. He raised his head and stared into his father’s concerned eyes. He dropped his back to his untouched meal.

“No.”

* * *

Three days after the moussaka incident, Derek invited himself into Jackson’s room through the window. He froze, seeing Jackson at his computer, working on his chemistry. Jackson didn’t bother to look at the alpha. He wanted to know why he wolfed out over his report card. He didn’t care about it.

“Have you slept?”

Jackson stared at his laptop screen, thinking about the question. He couldn’t remember the last time he felt tired. There were a few nights that he would lay in bed, staring at his ceiling, until his alarm beeped at him. Aside from that, his desire to sleep existed as much as his appetite did.

He should be tired. Jackson kept telling himself that, but it didn’t make it true. He wasn’t tired and he wasn’t hungry. His mind was still as sharp as it ever had been. That should mean that something was wrong with him. He should want to know why, but he didn’t care.

“No.”

* * *

The night of his first full moon came. Derek had locked him in the basement of his building. Jackson didn’t fight it. He spent the night sitting on the floor of the basement, staring at the cage bars. Derek had returned in the morning and stared at him, seeing that he was in the same position as he left him, only an hour before.

“Did you feel the pull?”

Jackson leveled his head and stared at Derek. There was a strange expression on the alpha’s face. _Concern,_ he reminded himself. He was beginning to forget what emotions looked like on other people. He figured that was because all he ever saw was anger from Erica, quiet interest from Boyd and plain confusion from Isaac during their sparring matches.

The full moon was a big deal for werewolves, or so Derek told him. All Jackson felt was the tingle on his neck whenever Derek howled. All he felt, at any time ever, was the tingle on his neck whenever Derek was close to him. There was only the tingle that felt nice, as though reminding him of what emotions were. It never lasted long enough to re-educate him.

“No.”

* * *

Three weeks later, Jackson stood at Derek’s loft door, having knocked. He waited as Derek moved to the door and opened it, gazing at him. Jackson entered the loft without permission and turned when Derek growled at him, eyes red at the arrogance of him.

Jackson frowned and tilted his head. _You should feel fear from your alpha._ He didn’t, though. He knew that Derek noticed it, as the alpha disappeared and he stared at Jackson. They stared at each other, Jackson knowing he should feel something. Derek going alpha on him should have some kind of emotional spark within him.

“What do you want, Jackson?” Derek asked after a lengthy silence, closing the door.

“Nothing,” Jackson answered.

Derek raised an eyebrow, pushing off the door and gesturing to the sofa. “Then why are you here?”

Jackson looked at the sofa as Derek sat on it and remained standing. “I think you,” he replied.

Derek gritted his teeth. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I don’t know,” Jackson said, looking at Derek. “I think I’m meant to be here.”

Don’t use sentences like that, Jackson told himself. The pack already knew he was weird, because of the kanima incident. He didn’t need to show his alpha has weird he really was.

“You _think_ you’re meant to be here?” Derek repeated, frowning. “You don’t know why you’re here?”

Jackson lowered his eyes a moment, trying to give some indication that he still had emotions. “I want to scent you,” he said and looked up.

Derek stood, his frown changing from curious to suspicious. “No, you don’t. I’d feel it if you wanted to.”

Jackson filed that piece of information away and nodded. “Okay.”

He could feel Derek’s eyes on him as he went to the door, ready to leave. He turned around when Derek’s hand slammed on it and the alpha was glaring at him. He had done something wrong, he deduced.

“What is wrong with you?” Derek asked, searching Jackson’s eyes.

“Nothing.”

“What do you feel?”

Jackson searched for the correct answer. He didn’t know what it was meant to be. He didn’t know what answer Derek was looking for. _What_ should he be feeling at that moment? Should it be fear and shame, as his alpha was disappointed in him? That didn’t seem right. Should it be lust, as his alpha was so close to him? That definitely wasn’t right.

The silence stretched on and Derek moved back. “Do you feel anything?”

That was a question he could answer. “No.”

* * *

Three days after that was the full moon. Derek had told his pack to be cautious as there was a strange scent in the forest. Jackson had found it and found it wasn’t Mama Bear and her cub that Derek was referring to. Whoever had walked the faint trails carved out by the werewolves had malice radiating from there. Derek told them it was likely a rogue hunter.

The pack met in some place within the forest, a small clearing. Jackson sat in a tree, watching them and listening. He heard the hunter and dropped from his branch. He caught the arrow that was fired at Isaac’s back and snapped it, moving towards the idiot that would take on a pack during a full moon.

“Jackson!”

Jackson ignored Derek calling out to him, especially as a gun fired. The pack scattered behind him and he found the one that was hunting them. Tilting his head, Jackson grabbed the man around the throat and lifted him up, feeling pressure on his shoulder. He removed the knife and threw it to the side.

Tilting his head to the other side, Jackson lowered the man and placed his spare hand on the head. Before he could snap the neck, he was ripped back and the hunter was punched unconscious. Panting, Derek spun around, rage in his eyes as he stared at Jackson. It melted away when he saw the blood.

“Are you hurt?”

“No.”

* * *

The next night, Jackson stared at his reflection in his bathroom mirror. Closing his eyes, he tried to think about his report card. He frowned and thought about his deceased real parents. Opening his eyes, he stared at his reflection. There was nothing.

_You’re empty._

That thought should have terrified him. It should have done _something_ to him. He tried to think of what fear felt like. He tried to remember happiness and a smile spread over his face when he thought of Mama Bear and her cub. How could he feel something about them, but nothing for the rest of his life? Thinking on Danny and Lydia, there was a very faint flutter in his stomach, as though he knew he should feel something for them.

Was it a side-effect of the kanima? Jackson had no idea. None of them knew anything about a kanima or what would happen if they killed one. He was meant to be dead. That left him feeling nothing. Death didn’t scare him, knowing he should be dead didn’t leave him scared.

Turning from his reflection, Jackson went into his bedroom and grabbed his phone. He unlocked it and dialed a number, holding it to his ear. He told himself that he should have felt nervous about calling Stiles, as it wouldn’t take long for it to spread to the others.

“Jackson?” Stiles answered, completely bewildered.

“Can I come over?”

“Um…” Stiles went silent and Jackson heard the other heartbeat in the room. “I guess?”

“I’ll be there soon.”

Jackson left his room, ignoring when his mother asked where he was going. He drove over to Stiles’ place and caught Derek’s scent in there, as well. He turned off the engine and slipped out, going up to the door. Stiles opened it and stared at him, pure confusion.

“Uh…Come in!”

Jackson stepped into the house. “I’ve told myself that I think I need answers,” he said and Stiles blinked at him.

“Ahh, yeah. From what I’ve heard, everyone needs answers. Follow me.”

Jackson followed Stiles up to his bedroom and found Derek sitting on the bed, a leaf in his hand. Jackson tilted his head, noticing that it was a birch leaf. Why did that get his attention?

Derek looked up and beckoned Jackson to him. Jackson went, as he told himself that he must answer to the alpha. Without permission, Derek lifted Jackson’s shirt and stared at the scar on his shoulder, which had him frowning.

“That shouldn’t have scarred.”

“I didn’t know that.” Jackson lowered his eyes, healing over the scarred tissue. “There you go.”

Derek placed his hand against the flawless skin and Jackson frowned, an emotion washing over him. Shame. His alpha was ashamed that he was injured. His neck tingled, almost buzzing. Jackson stepped back, as there was no need for him to stand that close.

“So, I’ve been researching like crazy about whatever you’re going through, Jackson,” Stiles said as he swayed side to side in his chair.

Jackson looked at Derek. “I could have done that. I don’t need sleep.”

Stiles stopped and stared at Jackson for a long moment, before he looked at Derek. “You said he hadn’t been sleeping, not that he didn’t _need_ to sleep.” He shook his head and turned his attention to Jackson. “Do you have an appetite?”

“Is this where I lie? I feel a lie should be told around this point.”

An emotion flashed through Derek’s eyes for a moment. “Just answer the questions, honestly.”

“No, I don’t have an appetite.”

“Come here.” Jackson stepped over to Stiles, who took his hand and pushed a staple into it. “Do you feel anything from that?”

“No.” Jackson removed the staple, his skin healing over instantly. The only evidence was two pinpoints of blood.

Stiles frowned, sitting back in his chair. “Do you feel anything, ever?”

“No.” Jackson frowned. “Wait. Sometimes, I feel a tingle in my neck. It feels…I think the word is ‘nice’?”

“Your neck?” Stiles asked as he stood and moved around Jackson, looking at the flawless skin.

“Yes, where Derek clawed me.”

Stiles looked at Derek sharply for a moment. “I’ll have to do a little more research, but as far as I can tell, he’s fine. He’s just…a machine.” Jackson tilted his head as Stiles picked up the staple, looking at the blood. “I’ll do a comparison to Scott’s blood.”

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” Jackson said headed for the door.

“Whoa, hang on, dude!” Stiles caught Jackson’s shoulder. “You can’t expect results tomorrow. I need to sleep.”

Jackson turned. “Then give it to me and I’ll do it.”

Derek stood and shook his head. “You wouldn’t know what you’re looking for. But you’re staying at the loft with me tonight.”

“Okay.” Jackson left the bedroom, missing the confused glance between Derek and Stiles.

“He’s more agreeable,” Stiles said as Jackson waited in the front hall for Derek. “And he doesn’t feel pain from silver. I check the knife, it was definitely silver. Are you sure you want answers? Is he even pack?”

Jackson frowned as his neck tingled.

“I don’t know.”

* * *

Derek opened his eyes, finding Jackson standing at the window and staring out of it. He inhaled and caught the scent of breakfast cooked, which made him frown. He left his bedroom and found Peter sitting at a table, helping himself to eggs, bacon, waffles, pancakes and sausages.

The dishes were stacked neatly, waiting to be washed. Peter grinned and raised his mug of coffee at his nephew, which had Derek frowning. Peter was more of a morning person than Derek was, but he was never that happy.

“I like the new Jackson. Can we keep him?” Peter asked as Derek sat down and looked at the spread.

Derek shook his head, looking over his shoulder. He could see Jackson’s shadow at the window, still. He hadn’t twitched or budged. That scared him, more than he would care to admit. He still couldn’t believe that Jackson had approached a hunter without a hint of fear.

Eating slowly, Derek thought back on the last couple of months with Jackson. When he woke up as a werewolf, he had smelled normal. He had the musk of a wolf on him. The next morning, he had the same scent. It wasn’t until he started wolfing out that he lost it, as though his wolf was dying from him. Derek didn’t know if that was possible.

Jackson smelled like nothing. Literally. There was no heat from him and Derek realized he hadn’t heard a heart beat in Jackson for a long while. He knew that the heart was figuratively the source of emotions, but he didn’t think it would be a literal thing, either.

He hadn’t felt anything from Jackson, either. For a moment, when he scented the young man, he wondered if Jackson would feel as he used to around Derek. There had been nothing. No fear, no false arrogance, no repressed lust. He had just stared at him, like he wasn’t his alpha that had scented him.

Hearing from Jackson’s parents that he wasn’t eating or sleeping had Derek terrified that he was depressed. Seeing him look healthy and act like it wasn’t a big deal made things strange. He couldn’t explain it, but Stiles had been right. Jackson was like a machine. He barely had any human traits left.

No, Derek corrected. He didn’t have _any_ human traits left.

Derek looked at Peter. “Do the dishes,” he said and went back to his bedroom. “Jackson.”

Like a robot, Jackson turned and looked at him, as though awaiting his command. He beckoned Jackson over to him, as he closed the bedroom door. He knew it wouldn’t do anything to stop Peter from listening in, but he didn’t want his uncle to see anything.

“Were you going to kill that hunter?”

“Yes.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t expecting that. “Why?” he asked, curious on the answer. Jackson had shown that he didn’t feel anything. Why would he protect the pack?

“Threats must be eliminated. I might not be pack, but you keep me around.”

The voice was monotone and Derek knew that Jackson hadn’t lied to him at all. Since…whatever it was happened to him, he was honest about everything. That worried Derek. He missed Jackson lying to him. He missed Jackson defying him.

“That tingling you feel,” Derek started as he moved over to his bed and sat down. Jackson turned on the spot, but didn’t step forward and remained silent. “When do you feel it?”

“Whenever you’re close to me, like when you scented me or when you looked at my scar.”

“Ask him if he feels anything else,” Peter called from the kitchen and Derek closed his eyes, keeping his temper in check.

Opening his eyes, he looked at Jackson. “Do you?”

“I don’t know. We’re rarely close. Sometimes, I think I feel a shadow of an emotion.”

Derek frowned and growled when Peter opened the door. He grabbed Jackson and stood him in front of Derek, shaking his head. “There’s a link between you,” Peter stated.

Derek looked at Jackson’s blank face. There wasn’t a flicker of recognition, curiosity or annoyance at being moved around. The eyes that used to sparkle so brightly now gazed back, devoid of everything. Derek couldn’t imagine a worse existence than one where he barely existed.

Jackson frowned. “You’re sad.”

Derek wondered where that link was. He couldn’t feel it, until he remembered that Jackson didn’t feel anything. He wouldn’t feel anything from his first pup and he wondered if he ever would.

“You can feel it?”

“I—” Jackson cut himself off and frowned, reaching up and touching his cheeks. “What?”

“All right. I’ll make a list of emotions you need to teach him again, nephew.” Peter grinned and left the room.

Derek glared after him for a moment, but felt gratitude that his uncle was still around. He wouldn’t have known what to do. Sometimes, that annoying, overbearing, power-hungry jerk was extremely useful. He was going to assume the first lesson was sadness.

* * *

Subsequent chapters will not be as long as this, with the exception of a couple.

Let me know what you thought!


	2. Compassion

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Compassion

Jackson stared at Derek, chest constricting as Derek thought of every painful moment he could. He tried to resist the pain, tried to ignore the way his throat dried out. He tried to disregard the tears that were spilling down his cheeks. He wanted to close his eyes and disappear into his head, but knew that would make it worse.

Derek gasped, stepping away from him. Jackson stared ahead, trying to calm the trembling of his body. He remembered what sadness was, but he was grateful to have forgotten about it. Memories that didn’t bother him before, suddenly had him closing his eyes and ducking his head.

Not caring that he wasn’t considered pack was flipped around. Now, he wanted nothing more than to prove that he was pack. He wanted to know what he had done wrong. The pain of his biological parents being dead made him physically recoil.

The tingling on his neck died off and Jackson straightened, looking at Derek. He touched his cheeks, feeling the tears. The problem was he couldn’t remember what caused them. Derek had been near him and he was overwhelmed by an emotion, but now that it was gone, he felt normal again.

Clearing his throat, Derek turned around and Jackson tilted his head. Whatever happened had affected him just as much. Peter had said something about Derek sharing his emotions, to retrain Jackson on them. He thought they would start with one that wouldn’t cause pain.

“Anything lingering?”

“No.”

Derek nodded and sat down on his bed. He ran his hands through his hair, his body shaking as much as Jackson’s had been while they were connected. Looking up, Derek stared at him and Jackson stared back. He didn’t know what Derek wanted. The expression on his face was foreign.

“I think we should call it a day here. I don’t think I can go through that again…right now.”

“Okay.” Jackson turned and left the bedroom. He paused when Derek called after him.

“Tomorrow night, I want you back here.”

“Okay.”

Jackson left the loft and made his way down the stairs. He paused and placed a hand on his chest, almost certain he felt something thump in there. Shrugging, he continued on his way and slipped into his car. He could feel Derek watching him from the window.

Parking in the driveway of his house, Jackson turned off his car and slipped out. He didn’t know if Derek wanted him at the pack meeting that night, but assumed he was meant to show up. Derek did see him as pack, otherwise he wouldn’t be trying to retrain him on emotions.

Going inside, Jackson tilted his head when he found his mother standing in the foyer. She ran forward and hugged him tightly. Jackson spun his keys around on his finger, waiting for her to dislodge her body from his. She finally pulled away and looked at him, before she checked his body to make sure nothing was broken or bleeding.

“Where were you?” she asked, holding his face.

“At Derek’s,” Jackson answered. “He’s helping me with something.”

“And you couldn’t call to tell us?”

“I didn’t know I had to do that.” His mother’s face twisted and Jackson frown, trying to figure out the emotion. “You’re…sad?”

Her eyes widened, not missing the question in his voice. “What is going on with you, Jackson?”

“I don’t know. Derek is looking into it.” Jackson stepped around his mother and headed for the stairs. “I’ll be at the pack meeting tonight.”

“At least, I’ll know where you’ll be _tonight_ ,” his mothered called after him.

“Tomorrow, I’ll be at Derek’s,” Jackson said as he closed his bedroom door.

He stripped and went to the en suite, turning on the shower. He washed quickly and walked out with a towel around his hips. Sitting at his laptop, he stared blankly at the screen. There was something he was going to do, but he couldn’t remember what it was. There was no point in the computer, as he could use his phone.

Going to his bed, Jackson grabbed his phone and unlocked it. He stared at the screen, not sure what to do after that. Stiles had said that he wouldn’t have results that day, so there was no point in calling him. He had seen Derek not that long ago and he doubted anything would’ve changed in that time.

Frowning, Jackson went back to his laptop. He might not have any use for it, but he could do some research about the kanima incident. He needed to know if the internet held any answers to the questions he knew others had. He had no idea what questions to ask the search engine, though.

The laptop was useless. Closing it, Jackson went to his window and looked out over the street. It was all he could do, until it was time to meet with the pack.

* * *

Jackson sat on the hood of the car, the headlights illuminating the area in front of him. He twirled a birch leaf by the stem, watching the way it danced. He was early to the meeting, but he could hear the others arriving. Derek and Peter were the first ones there, only Peter showing mild surprise at Jackson being there.

Isaac skidded to a halt in front of Derek, grinning and stepped back when Derek raised an eyebrow at him. Their expressions meant so much to them. Jackson had to question why he would want that. No one knew what he was thinking or feeling. From all he could see, from the small lesson with Derek, emotions were useless.

Erica and Boyd arrived together. Boyd waved at him and Jackson tilted his head. What was the point of that? They had clearly seen each other, but he knew better than to have questions. The last time he had questions, he discovered that werewolves were real. That had led to him being a murdering puppet and then to this, the best version of himself, by far.

“Until further notice, Peter is in charge of training,” Derek said, raising his hand when the others fired questions. “I will be unable to attend the training.”

“Why?” Erica demanded.

“Something’s come up that I can’t ignore,” Derek said, something in his tone.

Jackson felt a light tingle on his neck and raised his head, gazing at Derek. He couldn’t see anything different on the alpha’s face. Deciding that his body was acting as strangely as his mind, Jackson lowered his head and stared at the leaf.

“I’ll bet you can’t ignore it,” Boyd said with a sly glance at Jackson.

“Do we know why he doesn’t have a scent?” Erica asked.

“I’ll look into it. Until then, you follow Peter’s commands.” Derek looked at Jackson for a moment, before shaking his head. “Is there anything new to report?”

Jackson slipped off the car and walked into the forest, making his way towards the river. He had nothing new to tell Derek, but that was because he wasn’t actively looking for threats or potential problems. While he knew he should listen in to any of those, Jackson didn’t care. If anyone was dumb enough to attack him, he could easily defend himself.

At the river, Jackson stood and looked across it. He spent the next few hours waiting, not knowing what he was waiting for. For a moment, a whisper of a memory drifted by his mind, about the river and something good happening there. It was gone as quickly as it arrived.

In the distance behind him, a cell phone rang. Voices conversed and Jackson decided not to listen in. He turned from the river and made his way back to the car. By the time he arrived, Derek was standing by the car, waiting for him. Jackson stared at him.

“That was Stiles. He thinks he has an idea. I’ll meet you at his place.”

Jackson nodded and unlocked the car, slipping in and starting the engine. He made his way to Stiles’ house, parking by the curb. He got out and walked into the house, going up to Stiles’ room, who was stepping out of his bathroom and yelled when he saw Jackson.

“Jesus Christ, Jackson! When did you get here?”

“Three minutes ago.”

“And you couldn’t _knock_ , to let me know you were here?” Stiles inhaled shakily and shook his head. “Damn werewolves,” he muttered.

“Derek said you might have an idea. I didn’t know I had to wait.” Stiles stared at him and Jackson tried to analyze the expression. He wasn’t familiar with it. “What is that face?”

Stiles’ eyes widened. “Okay, this one,” he said, waving at his face. “It’s called ‘shock.’ It’s like surprise, but much worse.”

Jackson stared at Stiles’ face, trying to commit it to memory. He forced his eyes to widen and his jaw to hang slightly, staring at Stiles. The human shook his head and Jackson’s face reset. He had copied the expression, he thought.

“There’s more to it than just…openings,” Stiles explained as he sat by his computer. “There’s about forty micro actions happening whenever someone’s surprised. It’s about how the eyebrows move, how the muscles sit around the eyes and mouth.”

“Expressions sound difficult.”

“They’re not any more difficult than emotions,” Stiles said with a shrug. “You used to, sort of, understand that. When you weren’t being an arrogant dick.”

“What’s ‘arrogant’?” Jackson asked.

Stiles stared at him for a long while. “Okay, this one,” he said, waving a finger at his face. “This is called ‘pity.’ It’s like being sad, but for someone else.” He shook his head. “Never thought I’d miss the old you.”

“I know sad,” Jackson said.

Stiles watched Jackson, as though expecting something. “You look the same, dude.”

“I didn’t say I feel sad, just that I know sad. I know that emotion.” Jackson tilted his head slightly. “That’s the one where water comes from your eyes for no reason, isn’t it?”

Stiles sighed and frowned. “Kind of,” he said, his frown deepening. “You don’t cry for no reason. Something usually causes it, something painful.”

“Painful…” Jackson repeated, just to see how it sounded. “I remember that. Derek was painful.” That was the wrong use of the word. “Derek was in pain.”

“What happened to Derek?”

“I don’t know. I didn’t see anything wrong with him. He wasn’t bleeding, but he was pained.”

Stiles sat back, gazing at Jackson pensively. “Pain isn’t just physical, Jackson. There’s also emotional and psychological pain.”

Jackson tilted his head and Stiles sighed. Something about the conversation was causing sadness to Stiles, he reasoned. “Are you sad?”

“What? No. I’m confused, which I think is the only thing you understand. You don’t know what emotions or expressions are. Nothing we do makes sense to you.” Stiles ran his hands through his hair.

“Is that what that is?” Jackson had been wondering about that. He didn’t understand how he could have no emotions, but could feel confusion when around others. There was that confusion again.

Stiles stared at him and Jackson could see that ‘shock’ thing. “Jesus Christ, Jackson. What the hell is wrong with you?”

“That’s what you were researching.”

“I didn’t find anything about a kanima becoming a werewolf and losing their emotions, plus their appetite and need to sleep,” Stiles said as he turned to his computer. “There is literally nothing around for something like that. According to most places, you should be dead.”

“I’m not dead.”

Stiles stood up and grabbed Jackson’s wrist, holding two fingers to his pulse. He frowned and placed the fingers to his throat. He placed his ear to Jackson’s chest and pulled back, staring at him. That shock thing was settling back on his face.

“You’re dead,” Stiles said as he stepped back. “I mean, I always figured you were dead on the inside, but… You are literally dead.”

“I’m standing here,” Jackson said.

Stiles shook his head. “You don’t have a pulse and you have no heart beat.” He ran a hand through his hair, tapping the fingers on his scalp. “I’m taking you to the hospital. I want to see something.”

“Okay.”

Jackson followed Stiles out of the house, going for the car. Stiles shook his head and pulled Jackson over to the jeep. Climbing inside, Jackson stared out the windshield and Stiles pulled out of the driveway, just as Derek was about to pull in.

Stiles rolled down the window and stuck his head out. “We’re going to the hospital,” he called out and Derek frowned, glancing at the passenger seat. “He’s fine…ish. I wanna check something.”

Jackson watched as the streets moved by. Stiles muttered to himself and Jackson turned his eyes to the human, watching him. He wasn’t sure if the behavior was strange. Stiles fumbled with his phone and called Scott, asking if his mother was working that night.

“She is… What’s going on?”

“Something’s going on with Jackson,” Stiles answered, stopping at a red light.

Scott groaned. “Don’t tell me he’s become the kanima again.”

“Was that pain?” Jackson asked.

“And worry and possibly a little fear, as well. Groaning can mean all sort of things. Pain, frustration, pleasure.” Stiles shrugged.

“Why are you explaining that to Jackson? What the hell has happened?”

“I have no idea, man. He’s been acting weird for the last couple of months, according to Derek,” Stiles said, driving through the intersection. “We’ll be at the hospital in a few minutes.”

“I’ll meet you there.”

Stiles hung up and silence fell over the vehicle. “Derek’s worried, you know,” he said and glanced at Jackson, as though expecting some kind of reaction. “Do you remember anything?”

“I have memories. They come and go.”

Stiles frowned as he stared out the windshield. “But there’s nothing attached to them? No emotion? None that make you happy, scared or make you feel warm?”

“No.”

Stiles sighed and pulled into a bay, turning to stare at Jackson. “And that doesn’t scare you?”

“No,” Jackson answered as he slipped out of the jeep.

Derek pulled in beside Stiles and got out, standing beside Jackson. “What’s going on?”

“He’s got no pulse.”

Jackson stared at Derek. “That’s shock, right?”

“Yep.” Stiles almost smiled. “He’s learning…I think.”

“Recognizing emotions in others isn’t the same as having them, Stilinski,” Derek muttered, his eyes narrowing. “I thought you’d know that.”

Jackson rubbed his neck, not sure if he liked that tingling. It almost felt like the last piece of humanity that he couldn’t destroy. He didn’t know where that came from, but found he wasn’t wrong.

“You get that tingle again?” Stiles asked, his eyes lighting up.

“Yes.”

The grin was something Jackson had seen on others, but Stiles’ looked different. There was something else in the expression. Without a word, Stiles started poking Derek’s chest and arms, laughing. The tingling returned and Jackson rubbed his neck again.

Eventually, it became a soft buzzing and his mind felt alive for an instant. “Stop it, Stilinski!” Jackson snapped and glared at Stiles, who nodded, while Derek stared at him.

“Okay, that explains… _something_ ,” Stiles said, holding his chin as he stared at Jackson. “Do you feel anything, now?”

“I think it might be that thing you called ‘shock.’”

Stiles’ eyes moved to Derek. “Yeah, he looks a little shocked. Didn’t think it would be a proximity thing, though.” He tapped his fingers against his chin. “I think you did something to him when you scratched him.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “Do you remember anything about that?” he asked Jackson.

“I remember it.” Derek’s eyebrows went up. “I remember it,” Jackson repeated.

“ _What_ do you remember of it?”

“Everything,” Jackson answered.

“Oh,” Stiles said and patted Derek on the shoulder, which made Jackson growl at him. “Okay, guess Derek really doesn’t like me touching him.” He cleared his throat and stood beside Jackson, patting him on the shoulder. “What the hell?” he asked when Jackson growled again.

Jackson gritted his teeth. The feeling was bubbling in his stomach and hanging painfully in his chest. He looked at his hands and saw the claws, his shoulders tensing. He raised his head, staring at Derek. “What is this?” he demanded, glaring at Stiles when he backed away.

“I think that’s anger,” Stiles said, staring at Jackson’s eyes. “He _is_ a werewolf.”

“He wasn’t meant to be?” Scott asked as he ran across the street and joined them.

As suddenly as it started, the feeling disappeared. The claws retracted and Jackson felt his shoulders relax. Anger was something interesting. He didn’t realize that Derek had so much of it.

Scott sniffed at Jackson and frowned. “He smells like…like…”

“Nothing,” Derek filled in, putting some space between him and Jackson. “Do you hear anything?”

Scott’s frown deepened as he stared at Jackson. “Fuck. There’s nothing.”

“And that’s why we’re here. I need to borrow a room and check something.” Stiles headed for the entrance, glancing over his shoulder to check the others were following him.

Jackson stayed behind Derek and Scott. Stiles found Scott’s mother and quickly explained the situation, which had the woman looking at Jackson. She turned her attention back to Stiles, raising an eyebrow.

“He’s not dead. He’s walking around,” she said.

“Listen for his heart. Try to find a pulse,” Stiles offered, standing to the side.

Jackson snarled at Stiles, which was cut short. Derek moved away from him and the anger died off. Melissa raised an eyebrow, but put her stethoscope on and pressed it to Jackson’s chest. She frowned, moving it around. Her eyes widened for a moment, before she grabbed his wrist, moving her fingers up and down, searching.

“What?” Melissa shook her head. “How is this possible?” She looked at the three males. “Last I heard, he came back to life and everything was fine. Now, he’s dead again?”

Jackson looked at them, tilting his head when all of them looked at the ground. “That’s shame,” he said, which had Melissa looking at him.

“What?”

“Emotions and expressions are a foreign concept to him,” Stiles explained quietly.

“I didn’t think Jackson knew what those were to begin with,” Scott muttered and rolled his eyes. “Ow!” He rubbed the back of his head, staring at his mother. “What was that for?”

“I raised you better than that.” Melissa narrowed her eyes for a moment, before she turned them to Stiles. “What did you want to test?”

“His brain,” Stiles said and grinned.

Melissa pursed her lips for a moment. “We do have an MRI machine, but the technician has gone home for the night.”

“That’s fine,” Stiles said, waving his hand. “You’d be surprised what you can download off the internet.”

“I don’t think that’s a good idea, Stiles. It’s an expensive piece of equipment,” Melissa said softly.

“Did _you_ want to explain Jackson to some stranger?” Stiles asked and Melissa sighed. “I didn’t think so. So, where’s this machine?”

Melissa shook her head, but beckoned the boys to follow her. Jackson stayed back again, looking over his shoulder. He was almost certain he felt someone watching him, but the waiting room was surprisingly sparce with people. None of them were even looking at the group that were moving down the hallway.

After checking that they were alone, Melissa unlocked a door and ushered them. “No metal near the machine,” she told Jackson.

“Okay.” Jackson stripped down to his underwear and stepped into the room, staring at the MRI machine.

“Nervous?” Melissa asked as she stood beside Jackson.

“No. Awaiting instruction.” Melissa stared at Jackson with wide eyes. “That’s shock,” Jackson said as he looked at her.

“A little, yes.” Melissa smiled and gently urged Jackson over to the machine, while Stiles figured out the computer aspect of it. “Some people find it a little snug. But try not to move too much.”

“Okay.” Jackson watched as the machine came on and the slab moved out. He laid on it and felt the motion, wondering if he would be nervous, before he became emotionless.

Melissa left the room and joined the others by the computer. “What the hell happened to him, Derek?” she demanded quietly, as though the other two werewolves wouldn’t hear her.

Jackson twisted his head, trying to ignore the tingling. “I’m sorry,” he said, feeling a weight on his chest and his throat close up. _Sad,_ he told himself. Derek was sad.

“I don’t know,” Derek answered, none of them apparently hearing him. “He woke up and he was normal. A week later, nothing. It was gone.”

There was a click of the intercom. “Okay, Jackson. You should hear some clicks and other things. Try not to move, all right?”

Jackson stayed where he was, ignoring the pressure in his chest and the fact his throat was dry. He straight up at the camera that was looking back at him. The tingling became a buzzing, as something Derek saw made him sadder. Jackson fought to remain still and ignore the tears falling from his eyes.

“Jackson, what’s wrong?” Stiles asked.

“I don’t know,” Jackson said, a sob escaping his mouth.

“Damn it, Derek. Calm down. We don’t know what’s wrong, yet,” Scott said.

The tears dried up and anger took over. “Shut up, Scott,” Jackson snapped and glared at the camera. “Don’t make me kick your ass to assert my authority.”

“Talk about emotional whiplash,” Stiles muttered.

There was silence for few minutes and Jackson felt the anger die off. It wasn’t replaced with anything and he guessed that Derek managed to get control of himself. He stared at the camera blankly, waiting for his next command.

“Okay, we’re done, Jackson,” Stiles said and the tray moved.

Jackson joined the others in the observation room, looking at the images of his brain. He thought they looked normal, until he heard what Stiles was saying.

“So, this is what a normal brain should look like,” Stiles said. “And this is what Jackson’s looks like.”

Jackson gazed at the image of his brain. The short clip didn’t show anything. Stiles brought up another clip, explaining that’s from when Jackson was sad. There was movement in his brain, the same for when he was angry. He didn’t know what any of it meant.

“So…” Melissa looked between the four boys. “How did he get sad and angry?”

“Derek,” Stiles and Scott said, pointing to the alpha.

“You’re responsible for his emotional state?” Melissa raised an eyebrow. “There wasn’t anyone else more…” She trailed off for a moment, wincing at her words. “…emotionally stable to control him? I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for it to sound that bad.”

Derek growled, but nodded. “It’s complicated, but, basically, we’re linked to each other.”

“All right.” Melissa checked her watch. “Turn off the machine, make the copies you need and be sure to delete them. I’m behind on my rounds.” She hugged Scott and Stiles, turning to Jackson. She hesitated a moment and then hugged him as well.

Jackson felt anger beginning to spike for a few moments, before it was squashed down. He looked at Derek, seeing him staring at Melissa’s back. Melissa released him and smiled, stepping around him. Jackson watched as Stiles made the copies needed and powered down the MRI. Jackson followed them out of the room and into the hallway.

“Dude,” Stiles said as he stared at Jackson. “Get dressed!”

Jackson turned and went back. He pulled on his jeans and shoes, stepping out of the room and pulling on his shirt. He frowned and looked up, staring at Derek. Something strange passed over him and he couldn’t begin to explain it. Somehow, it reminded him of hunger, but not for food.

“What was that?” Jackson asked, not taking his eyes off Derek.

“What?” Scott and Stiles asked, looking between Jackson and Derek.

Scott sniffed at the alpha. “There’s nothing strange about his scent or emotions.”

“Okay.” Jackson walked up to the group and Stiles stopped him, fixing his shirt.

Jackson’s eyes widened and he winced, stepping away from Stiles. He placed a hand on his chest, some kind of chemical flooding his body. He trembled, staring at the ground. Was that pain? Why did it hurt his chest so much? He didn’t feel like crying, but he wanted to do something.

“Hey,” Stiles said, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

“What… _emotion_ …is this?” Jackson grounded out, feeling his heart beating frantically in his chest.

“Yeah, Derek,” Scott said, looking at the alpha. “What emotion _is_ it?”

Derek growled and stormed away from them. The emotion vanished and Jackson straightened, still feeling the final parts of the chemical in his system. He didn’t know what it was, but it had flooded him, making him want to cry or kill something or both.

“What did it feel like?” Stiles asked, fixing Jackson’s shirt properly. “Was it anger?”

“A little bit,” Jackson answered as they started down the hallway again. “And sadness. And…something else. Like a want.”

Scott and Stiles glanced at the other, trying to piece together the information. Jackson knew that he wasn’t the best when it came to explanations. How could he explain something he didn’t understand? He didn’t know what he was feeling, just that it gripped him suddenly and he wanted it gone.

They exited the hospital in silence and found that Derek had left. Jackson started walking towards Stiles’ place, stopping when the human called his name. “Did you want a lift?”

“No.”

* * *

Derek heard Jackson walking up the stairs to his loft and glanced at Peter. His uncle groaned and rolled his eyes, standing from the sofa. Derek didn’t want anyone around for those sessions, as he had no idea what would happen. Since the first one, Jackson was too close to his emotions. He was beginning to act and say what Derek wanted to say and act.

“Here,” Peter said and handed Derek a piece of paper. “These are the emotions I could think of. You’ll need to explain to him the nuances of them, though.”

Derek nodded and scanned the paper, seeing the usual suspects on there. Happiness, love and fear. The others were a little alien to Derek, as well. Compassion wasn’t something he or Jackson were known for. Pride would have been easy for the old Jackson.

Peter left as Jackson entered and Derek looked up. He stared into the blank eyes of his first, Melissa’s words whispering through his mind again. What _had_ he done? Was this because of him or because of the kanima? Stiles’ idea of what was happening was thrown out when he learned that Jackson was dead. They were no closer to answers than they were two days ago. Stiles was still waiting on the results from the bloods.

Staring at Jackson, Derek wondered if that kid was ever going to catch a break. It seemed that some deity was out to punish him. He was certain Jackson wouldn’t see it that way, at least at the moment. Jackson without emotions, probably without thoughts was odd. Even when he was the kanima, he was still emotional. He still feared Derek, he still felt happiness. Love was something all of them figured he never felt, even with Lydia.

Derek lowered his eyes. Maybe Lydia could help him understand what was happening to him. Maybe she could bring him back, again. Derek was certain he wasn’t the person for it. That had been proven with the kanima. As a werewolf, Jackson shouldn’t be anything but normal.

Sighing, Derek pulled out his phone and sent a message to Stiles, asking him to bring Lydia over. Derek would have done it, but he didn’t want to seem like a creeper. It was bad enough he was hanging around teenagers, but he liked their resilience. More teenagers take to the bite than adults or children. They wanted to fit in with a group more.

The silence spread over the loft. Derek thought his steady heart sounded like a hammer, echoing around him. He could feel Jackson’s eyes on him, waiting for his command. Looking at him, Derek wondered if Jackson even knew anything about himself. Did he remember what his favorite food was? What his favorite color was? He doubted it.

“Come here.” Jackson walked over to him and stopped two feet from the sofa. “In front of me.”

Jackson moved, the only thing missing was the hydraulic sounds. Derek grabbed his hand, feeling the cool skin. The loft was cool and he found that Jackson’s skin was neither cold nor hot. It warmed up in Derek’s hand, but lost that heat when it was dropped. Jackson didn’t feel the elements.

“Do you remember Lydia?” Derek asked, listening intently to Jackson’s body. There wasn’t a flutter of a heartbeat.

“I remember her.”

“I think she might help you better than I could,” Derek said quietly, feeling the failure rush over him. He looked up when he heard Jackson’s heart. Jackson had his head lowered, hands were fists at his side. “I’m sorry, Jackson.”

Jackson looked up, glaring at Derek through his tears. “Why do you feel everything so…so… _powerfully_?”

“Werewolves just do,” Derek answered and found that link his uncle mentioned. He could feel the disappointment and sadness of failure. He didn’t like that he felt that from Jackson, but it was better than not feeling anything. He shut down the link, watching as the emotion left Jackson’s face and his heart stopped beating.

Derek sighed and stood, going to the loft door when he heard Stiles’ jeep pull up. He glanced back at Jackson and found that he was staring at the sofa. The elevator powered up and Derek moved over to it, keeping his eyes on Jackson, who still hadn’t moved.

“I invited Lydia and Stilinski over,” Derek said.

“Okay.”

Derek was starting to hate that word. Somehow, it sounded more emotionless than usual when Jackson said it. Almost as though confirming he had nothing left in him. He didn’t even bother to look over his shoulder to speak to him.

The door was opened and Lydia stepped into the loft, the gentle scent of her shampoo and perfume filling the space. She doesn’t look at Derek, her eyes fixed on Jackson’s back, as though she’s expecting a reaction out of him. She frowned when nothing happens.

“Did Stilinski tell you anything?” Derek asked as the male teen joined them.

“I gave her a quick rundown. Hey, Jackson,” Stiles called and smiled when Jackson turned to them.

“Oh god, Jackson,” Lydia breathed, seeing his eyes for the first time in months. “You really _are_ dead.”

“So I’ve been told,” Jackson said.

Derek watched as Lydia walked up to the dead teen. She hugged him and he quickly looked away, not wanting to see any reaction from Jackson. Hesitantly, he checked the link and found that Jackson felt nothing. There was no spark of recognition from the hug. Lydia was literally a person from his memories and that’s all. It didn’t matter that he used to care about her.

Looking up, Derek found that Jackson was staring at Lydia. “Do you feel anything?”

Jackson’s eyes snapped to his. “No.”

Lydia sighed and stepped back from Jackson. She sniffled and then rounded on Derek. “What happened?”

Derek felt his anger spike. “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” Jackson demanded, a glare settling on his face. “If I knew what happened, I’d be able to fix it!”

Lydia raised an eyebrow, glancing between Jackson and Derek. “Really?” she asked, a hint of amusement in her voice. “Well, that’s good to know, Jackson. But I’d rather hear it from Derek.”

“I don’t know what happened,” Derek said, his jaw tightening. “As I said, if I knew, I’d be able to fix it.”

“You didn’t say that,” Stiles said as he stood in front of Derek, searching his eyes. “Is your—Can Jackson read your mind?”

“Don’t be stupid, Stilinski,” Jackson said, almost a touch of his former self in those words. “It’s an emotional link, not a—Holy shit.”

Derek stared at Jackson, shocked that he had said everything he was thinking. As far as he knew, it was only an emotional connection he had with Jackson, as he had been in a state of heightened emotions when the scratch happened. He would need to make sure he kept his emotions under control even more than usual.

The last thing Derek wanted or needed was Jackson feeling him and then sprouting what he was thinking. He knew there would be slipups, but he needed to make sure Jackson only felt the emotion and learned it. That was another problem. He had no idea how to actually _instill_ his emotions into Jackson.

Lydia smiled sadly and patted Jackson on the shoulder. Derek glared at the floor for a moment, shutting down the link. “I can’t save him this time, Derek,” she said and turned her attention to Derek. “That’s for you to do.”

“You brought him back from the kanima,” Derek stated.

Lydia rolled her eyes. “Through his _heart_. He doesn’t have that anymore. Surely, you’ve noticed the lack of, well, _everything_ from him.”

Jackson snarled, his eyes flashing blue. Lydia glared at Derek, crossing her arms over her chest and waited for Derek to calm down. Inhaling deeply, Derek pushed back his anger and the blue died from Jackson’s eyes. He really didn’t like that accusation.

“I’ve noticed it,” Derek seethed.

“And you’ve noticed that the only time he reacts is when your emotions get too high. They’re literally spilling out of you and into him.” Lydia frowned when Derek stared at her, waiting for her to continue. “This means nothing to you? Has no one in your family, before they were murdered, had something similar?”

Derek frowned, thinking back on his family. He had a cousin and his mate that were almost deliriously happy at times. Whenever one of them was hurt, the other felt it. That was expected from mates, though. He thought about those he was close to, realizing that he only felt how they did through their scents and the micro expressions.

He raised his eyes, seeing that Lydia was waiting for an answer. Fear shot through him as he read her eyes and knew what she was going to say. “No. We all had an emotional bond with each other, but a pack does,” he answered.

Stiles stepped in front of Jackson. “You said he was stabbed with a knife and didn’t flinch?” he asked, glancing over his shoulder.

“I don’t think he felt it.”

“I didn’t feel it.”

“Okay,” Stiles said as he straightened and turned to Derek. “Are we sure we wanna change him?”

“You prefer him like this?” Derek and Lydia demanded, gesturing at Jackson.

Stiles sighed and rolled his eyes. He pulled out a pocket knife and grabbed Jackson’s hand, pricking a finger. Derek kept his fear down, not wanting it to roll into Jackson. A drop of blood appeared. Stiles gave a flourish with his hand, as though he was a magician.

“Stab this through your hand,” Stiles said and handed the knife to Jackson.

Derek’s eyes widened as Jackson shoved the blade through his palm, his blood dripping onto the floor. There wasn’t a flicker of anything in his eyes. Derek wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear what Stiles’ reasoning was, but he shook his head and removed the knife from Jackson. The hole healed over instantly.

“What the hell were you doing, Stilinski?” Derek demanded and shoved the boy away from Jackson.

“Hear me out,” Stiles said as he regained his balance. “Jackson can’t die.”

“You don’t know that,” Derek said, eyes narrowed. He wasn’t going to lose a member of his pack again. He had lost Jackson once and that was enough. He couldn’t lose his first pup for good. He couldn’t live through it again.

“He has a point,” Lydia said, but glared at Stiles when he smiled. “You could’ve just said that, instead of having Jackson stab himself.”

“He should be dead,” Stiles continued, gazing at Jackson. “He doesn’t have a heart and his brain is, technically, dead. Yet, he walks and talks. If you have any enemies, I say unleash Jackson on them.”

Derek stared at Stiles, unable to believe he thought of Jackson a weapon. He was treating Jackson like he was the kanima again, something to unleash on others and cause chaos. Derek knew that wasn’t what Stiles was thinking, but it still cut deep to think that Jackson was like the kanima. He had stabbed his hand, simply because he was told to do it.

“Get out,” Derek said and turned his back to Stiles.

Stiles must have realized what he said, as Derek caught the scent of guilt. “I didn’t mean it like that, Derek. I know he’s not the kanima, but even if he was… He’s on our side now.”

“Stiles,” Lydia said gently and moved him over to the door. “I think we should leave before you choke on your foot.”

Jackson moved to leave as well, but Derek grabbed his arm. “You’re not leaving.”

“Okay.”

Derek closed his eyes as that word reached his ears. Why couldn’t Jackson just be normal? Why couldn’t he be that frightened, arrogant little shit that everyone knew? Why did his first bite have to go so horribly wrong? How was he meant to keep a pack together, if one of the members was an emotionless sack?

How could he have failed so badly?

“You didn’t fail.”

Derek opened his eyes and looked at Jackson, seeing the tears roll down his cheeks. He hadn’t thought that. Why was Jackson saying it? His grip tightened on Jackson’s arm, hoping for some kind of reaction. There was nothing, but sadness swirling in his eyes. And he didn’t even know why he was sad.

“You’re stronger than you think, Derek,” Jackson said softly, placing his spare hand on Derek’s shoulder.

Derek frowned and straightened. “That’s comfort,” he said. “You’re comforting me. Why?”

“Because I feel it,” Jackson answered, more tears rolling down his cheeks. “I don’t want to, but I do. And you’ve always been too hard on yourself.”

“What do you feel?”

“Your pain…all that pain.” Jackson frowned and looked away from Derek. That was the Jackson he knew; the one that hated emotions and tried to run from them. “Your feelings of inadequacy. The… Your fear of losing me.”

Derek listened to Jackson’s beating heart. That should have filled him with elation, but he pulled back. He couldn’t have Jackson knowing anything else. He already knew too much, felt too much. It wouldn’t take long for him to piece together the details.

Jackson looked at him. “And you wonder why I have an issue with my emotions?” he asked, his voice still gentle and soothing. “Look at what you’re doing.”

Anger took over Derek and he shut down the link, watching the life leave Jackson’s eyes. “This is about you becoming human again. This has nothing to do with me. Leave.”

“Okay.”

Derek frowned as Jackson left without another glance at him. Once the door was closed, he collapsed onto the sofa and held his head in his hands. What was he going to do?

Looking up, Derek’s eyes widened as he felt warmth wrap around him. Somehow, despite wanting to teach him sorrow, Jackson had learnt compassion.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it. If you did, leave a kudos and maybe a comment.  
> Thanks to those that did leave kudos and that commented. It made my day. =3
> 
> omegalpha: Thanks for taking this story's comment cherry. I'm glad you found it intriguing and I hope this chapter was just as enjoyable. Thanks!
> 
> Reddy_no_1: Thank you so much for your review. I'm so happy you enjoyed it, and yes, I agree with Peter. They should totally keep the new Jackson. (Also, your English was perfect. Better than mine and it's my native language.)


	3. Sorrow

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TRIGGER WARNING: Self-mutilation and attempted suicide.

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Sorrow

Jackson stood at his window, staring out over the street. He had felt Derek’s sadness when he left and had sent something back to him. He had sent warmth. Why had he sent that? Why did he feel the sadness that Derek felt, thinking he had failed? Why was there a need to protect and boost?

Those questions rolled around his mind for the rest of the night. He looked at his laptop when it chimed at him, letting him know there was an email. Opening it, Jackson saw that his teachers had responded to him. His parents didn’t want him at school, saying something about them being ‘worried’ things could go bad.

Jackson didn’t understand it, but he had completed all the assignments sent to him within a night. He completed his homework, sending that in everyday and found that not sleeping was better for him. The idea of spending the day in school surrounded by faces that conveyed every kind of expression sounded exhausting to him. He wasn’t sure if he could do it and was almost glad to be away from school.

He had searched for the link that Peter mentioned, knowing it was somewhere within him. He had felt it every time Derek’s emotions got the better of him. He didn’t know where to find it without Derek leading him, though. He had searched every nook and cranny within his mind, discovering that he had links with Boyd, Erica and Isaac. He wondered how he didn’t feel those.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, there was a red thread. After giving it a tug, Jackson had followed it. Derek was eating dinner with the pack, while Peter told him how training was going. There was a spark of something in Derek, but Jackson couldn’t place it and had retreated.

That night had been eventful, he concluded. He knew what he was looking for when it came to that link. He didn’t know how Derek was able to shut it down at times, but he figured that was something for him to learn later. For the moment, he didn’t need to shut it down. He wasn’t projecting his emotions.

Going back to the window, Jackson felt for that link he couldn’t destroy. Derek was asleep, his mind tumultuous. Frowning, Jackson sent through that feeling he had the previous day, almost seeing the warmth embrace Derek and the strain vanished from the alpha’s face.

Coming back to himself, Jackson touched his cheek and looked at the liquid. Why did offering comfort cause him to cry? He wasn’t sure if he would ever understand it, even if he did get his emotions back. He raised his eyes, watching as a kid threw papers onto lawns.

Stiles was right. Jackson should be unleashed on Derek’s enemies. Could he die, though? Derek was scared that he could. Without the pain, Jackson didn’t know if he could. Leaving his bedroom, he went downstairs to the kitchen. Grabbing a cleaver from the knife block, Jackson cut off his fingers, the knife slicing through the joints like they were butter.

Jackson tilted his head as his fingers regrew. He flexed them and then pushed his discarded fingers to the side, chopping at his wrist until his entire hand was off. Like his fingers, the hand regrew, almost instantly. There was no pain and barely any pressure. He could do a lot to help Derek.

Raising his hand, Jackson looked at it. As far as he could tell, there was no trouble in the town, since the rogue hunter was handed over to the Argents. Tilting his head, Jackson cut off his hand again, just to see if it would regrow. He wasn’t sure how many times he could do that and he needed to know if it had limits.

Unlike the first time, his hand regrew faster. Almost in a blink of an eye, it had regrown. That was different. Jackson expected it to take longer to regrow, not become faster. He removed his hand again, just to make sure it wasn’t a fluke. The hand was back and Jackson wiggled his fingers. Everything worked perfectly. He rotated his hand, his joint cracking a little. He could live with that.

The next thing to test was his throat. Jackson grabbed a fillet knife and ran the sharp blade along his throat. Blood trickled out, but the wound was healing almost instantly. Holding the knife slightly different, Jackson made a swift movement across his throat. The hole healed over, but more of his blood came out, adding to the mess on the kitchen counter and his shirt.

Putting that knife down, Jackson grabbed one that was a little stiffer. The quickest way to his brain was through the ear, if he remembered his biology class correctly. Just as he was about to stab it into his ear, he heard a scream and looked at the kitchen entrance. His mother stood there, hands covering her mouth as she stared at him.

“Good morning, Mom,” Jackson said.

“Jackson, what are you doing?!”

Jackson looked at his hands and fingers on the counter for a moment. “A test,” he said and stabbed the knife into his ear.

His mother screamed again and his father came running down the stairs, freezing as he stared at his son. Jackson removed the knife, looking at the blood that was smeared on it. As he was about to test it again, his father grabbed his hand and cursed when he saw the body parts on the counter.

“Call Derek,” his father yelled.

* * *

“Jesus Christ, Jackson!” his father shouted and Jackson tilted his head. He recognized the anger, but there was something else. “ _Why_ would you do that?”

“I needed to test it,” Jackson answered.

“Test what?” Derek demanded as he strode into the kitchen. He looked over at the counter and his eyes widened, returning them to Jackson.

Jackson held his hands up, showing the alpha that everything was fine. “Stiles is right. I can’t die. Check it out.” He turned his head, showing Derek the dried blood on his ear.

Derek stared at him and Jackson felt it. His chest constricted and his throat dried out. Derek was sad, but it felt more powerful than before. It wasn’t just a few tears, it was a cold sensation that had Jackson shivering. Jackson wasn’t sure what it was.

“You…tried to kill yourself, because of what _Stiles_ said?” Derek demanded, that cold, empty feeling disappearing, replaced by anger.

“He was right,” Jackson snapped with a glare, which had his parents looking at him. “You may as well use me for something good!”

“I won’t send you to your death!” Derek roared, slamming his hands on the table, which broke.

Jackson stood up and shoved Derek back. Derek growled when his back hit the counter that held Jackson’s body parts. “What else am I good for?” Jackson demanded. He stormed up to Derek and grabbed the cleaver, removing his fingers again. His mother screamed echoed around the room and Derek’s eyes widened as the fingers regrew. “I feel _nothing_ , Derek.”

Derek couldn’t stop staring at Jackson’s hand, even going as far to take hold of it. His heart hammered in his chest, as fast as Jackson’s was. The rage was slowly dying from both of them and Jackson stepped back, gazing at the alpha and awaiting his next instruction.

Jackson’s father cleared his throat. “Derek, we…” He glanced at his wife, her eyes wide and staring at their son. “We can’t handle this.”

Derek nodded, unable to take his eyes from Jackson. “I’ll take him to my loft,” he said and finally looked at the parents. “You’re free to visit him, whenever you want. Jackson, pack some clothes.”

Jackson turned to his parents. His mother was sobbing and his father seemed paler than normal. Their scents were rank with something that Jackson hadn’t smelled in a while. Fear. They were terrified of him and what he had become. That definitely should have made him feel something, but he simply walked past them and up to his bedroom. He packed as much of his clothing as he could in a suitcase, grabbed his laptop and went back downstairs.

“I’ll bury those in the garden for you,” Derek was saying as Jackson entered the kitchen. His parents were sitting on the chairs, not bothered by the lack of table.

Derek collected the fingers and hands, stepping out of the kitchen door and onto the back patio. Jackson watched his mother. She was staring at the floor, hands over her ears, as though she didn’t want to hear anything being said. His father was staring ahead, barely blinking and definitely refusing to look at Jackson.

After a few minutes, Derek returned, brushing the dirt from his hands. He glared at Jackson, who tilted his head. He hadn’t done anything wrong, as far as he knew. He didn’t know why Derek was disappointed in him. Jackson frowned. He could feel that. Disappointment. He knew what it was.

“As you should. I’ve been beating it into your head for the last five minutes,” Derek said, eyes flashing red. “Get to the loft.”

“Okay.”

Jackson turned and left the house, getting into his car. He started the engine, still feeling Derek’s disappointment. He wondered why he could feel it so strongly, since they were so far apart. It didn’t matter, he decided and backed out of the driveway.

* * *

“What the fuck were you thinking?” Derek demanded as soon as he entered his loft, freezing when the stench of blood hit him.

Jackson stared at him, watching his nose. He looked down at his shirt and realized he was still hadn’t changed. The idea hadn’t occurred to him, as he didn’t mind the smell of blood. Derek narrowed his eyes and breathed out sharply through his nose.

“I had to test the idea,” Jackson said and Peter sat up straighter on the sofa.

“And what idea is this?” Peter asked, looking between the two.

Jackson tilted his head and turned to Peter. “If I could die,” he answered.

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Can you?”

“I haven’t done enough tests,” Jackson said, turning to Derek when a roar sounded. Derek had his fist through a wall.

Isaac wandered out of his bedroom and froze, staring at the three of them. His eyes went to the front of Jackson’s shirt. “Is that your blood?”

“Yes.”

Isaac frowned. “How…?”

“I cut my throat open.”

“What?” Peter said and jumped to his feet, checking Jackson’s throat.

“That’s not the best part,” Derek said with clenched teeth. “His mother saw him stab himself in his ear.”

“It’s the quickest way to the brain,” Jackson explained as Peter turned his head, scratching away the dried blood.

“He’s not…wrong,” Isaac said, standing beside Derek. “Did you feel any of it?”

“Oh, he didn’t,” Derek answered with the same clenched teeth. “He was even nice enough to give _me_ a demonstration. Cut his fucking fingers off, right in front of me!”

“Huh,” Peter said and picked up Jackson’s hands, looking them over. “There’s not a scar or indication that they were removed.”

“I was told that we don’t scar,” Jackson said.

“Not the point, but nice to know you know that,” Peter said and dropped Jackson’s hands, stepping back. “Well, at least we know you can’t die from your own hand.”

“I don’t know that, yet,” Jackson told him. “As I said, more tests are needed.”

“Jackson…” Derek growled and removed his hand from the wall. He grabbed hold of Jackson’s shirt and dragged him into his bedroom. “Shower.”

“Okay.”

Jackson went into the bathroom and stripped off. He stepped under the water, washing the dried blood off his body. He turned off the water and grabbed the towel, drying off his body and walking out into the living area, drying his hair.

“Jesus, Jackson!” Isaac exclaimed and turned around.

Jackson stopped and looked at them. Peter and Derek were staring at him and Jackson got the feeling he had done something wrong. As neither of the other two said anything, Jackson went to his suitcase and dressed.

Peter laughed and shook his head. “Guess there’s no shame left in him, then.”

Jackson frowned and looked to Derek for confirmation, before he remembered that Stiles was the one that explained emotions and feelings to him. “What’s ‘shame’?”

“It’s a form of embarrassment,” Isaac answered, looking over his shoulder. He turned around when he saw that Jackson was dressed.

“And what’s ‘embarrassment’?”

“It’s something that’s a little difficult to explain,” Isaac said and scratched his jaw. “It’s…well, it’s a feeling you’ll know when you feel it. You’ll want to curl up and die.”

Derek shook his head. “It’s a form of fear – fear of what others might think, fear that you’ve done something wrong.” He checked his watch and glanced at Isaac. “Shouldn’t you be getting ready for school?”

“Oh, man,” Isaac whined and looked at Jackson. “Why doesn’t he have to attend school?”

“You really wanna explain Jackson to someone?” Derek asked, chuckling when Isaac’s shoulders slumped. “That’s what I thought, pup. Get dressed.”

“I’m gonna see if I can pick up that trail again,” Peter said as he stood, moving to the door. He froze when Jackson joined him.

“Not happening, Jackson. Sit.” Jackson’s legs folded under him, as he stared at the door. “I meant on the sofa.”

“Okay.” Jackson stood and he sat on the sofa, still staring at the door. Tracking a scent was something he could do. He could help Peter find whatever he was looking for…and he could test the theory a little more. “Why—?”

“Because I know you’ll try to get yourself killed,” Derek answered with a glare. “I don’t trust you.”

Jackson frowned and tilted his head. “I don’t know what that is.”

“Don’t know what?”

“Trust.”

Derek snorted. “That’s because you never trusted anyone. Probably didn’t even trust yourself.”

Jackson turned his head, staring at Derek. “I’ve upset you.” He sought out the link and found that Derek had shut it down.

Derek leaned forward, his eyes darkening. He opened his mouth, but Isaac came out of his room, dressed for school. “We’ll discuss this later,” he said.

“Okay.”

Jackson straightened his head and stared ahead, waiting for the time to go by. He wasn’t sure if he wanted Isaac to leave, as something fluttered in his stomach. He remembered that feeling too well. Fear. Except he wasn’t scared. He knew Derek couldn’t hurt him, regardless of how hard his hits were.

Isaac kept glancing at them. Jackson had heard Derek recline in his chair, before asking his beta how his studies were going. Isaac admitted to needing help in chemistry and Jackson knew he should have felt his anger flare. He still couldn’t believe he got a B- on his report card. His final year of high school and he had to work from a B- to his usual A.

“I’ve got things I need to do,” Derek said as he stood and moved to the elevator with Isaac. “Stay.”

“Okay.”

* * *

Jackson continued to stare at the wall Derek had punched. The sun was beginning to set, lighting the loft in ways that would be beautiful, had he understood what beauty was. He stayed where he was, knowing that Derek would be angry if he even twitched out of place. He shouldn’t care about that, but he did. It was the first thing he cared about and he was going to latch onto it, for the moment.

Why did he care if Derek was angry with him, for disobeying him? He always disobeyed Derek. It was something he used to enjoy. Derek was angry with him for testing a theory. Perhaps Derek didn’t like science. He had no idea what Derek liked, but he had seen books scattered around the bedroom and in the living room.

Peter was the first one back, panting. He went into the kitchen and drank from the faucet, before he looked at Jackson. He sat beside the pup, staring at the wall and trying to find what he found so interesting. After a minute, he stood up and went back to the kitchen.

Jackson felt a slight pressure in his chest and looked at the knife that was plunged into him. He removed it and tossed it onto the coffee table, making sure his pose was the same as when Derek left. He continued to stare ahead, frowning when his head was tilted to the side for him. He straightened it when the grip was loosened, continuing to stare at the wall. Derek would be home soon.

After a few minutes, Peter left the living room and Jackson heard a shower turn on. Just as it was turning off, Jackson heard Derek and his betas arriving. They were a few blocks away, but they would be home soon. They were talking excitedly and Jackson realized his hearing wasn’t as good as it should be.

Raising his hand, he touched the knife handle that was sticking from his ear. He pulled it out and tossed it onto the coffee table with the other one. He didn’t know what Peter was doing and he didn’t care. He wasn’t the one that had stuck those knives in him.

The elevator went down and Jackson heard Erica asking about something. “What’s wrong? What does it mean?”

“It’s a warning,” Derek answered, his voice getting closer by the second. There was a pause. “What the fuck?” He pulled open the door to the elevator and stared at Jackson. “Did you move from there?”

“No.”

“Then _why_ are you bleeding?” Derek demanded, stepping closer and looking at the knives on the coffee table.

“I was stabbed.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow and stepped around the others, going to his bedroom. Peter joined them in the living room and Derek’s eyes snapped to him. “Did you stab him?”

“Yep,” Peter answered as he flopped onto the sofa beside Jackson. “Nine times. He still has the knives in his back.”

Erica frowned and stepped around the sofa. She gasped as she saw the seven knives in Jackson’s back. “Holy shit. That’s badass.”

Derek growled, eyes becoming red and his claws growing. “Why did you stab him?”

Peter shrugged. “Morbid curiosity. I had to know if he would die.” Derek growled again and Peter stiffened, bowing his head. “I won’t do it again.”

“I’m going to pull this out, Jackson,” Erica said, gripping one of the handles.

“Okay.”

Erica grimaced as she pulled the knife out of Jackson’s back. “Oh, god. I don’t think I can do this.”

Boyd joined her behind the sofa. “You seriously don’t feel that?”

“No.”

With a deep breath, Boyd grabbed one of the handles and pulled it from Jackson’s back. “Oh, that’s so weird.” He removed another. “Anything?”

“No.”

Glancing at Derek, Boyd shook his head. He winced as he grabbed another knife and pulled it out. “I think I’m going to be sick,” he said, dropping the knives on the coffee table. “I can’t watch pack bleed.”

“That’s fair,” Derek said, placing a hand on Boyd’s shoulder. “You don’t need to feel ashamed. I wanted to know how you would react, considering it’s Jackson.”

“Hey, stabbing him is completely different from…pulling knives out of him.” Erica dropped the knife she held, shuddering.

“Join Isaac in his room and do your homework,” Derek ordered and Jackson stood. “Not you.”

Jackson remained standing, waiting for his order. Erica and Boyd left the living room and even Peter found a reason to leave. Jackson frowned as he felt a tug towards Derek, but there was no hands on him. He stayed where he was. There was a stronger tug and Jackson fell face first onto the coffee table. He got back to his feet and stared ahead.

“Why don’t you come towards it?” Derek asked and the tug happened again.

“I didn’t know I should.”

“This,” Derek said and the tug happened again. “Is your alpha calling you to them.”

“I didn’t know that.” Jackson frowned and stepped forward when he was tugged.

“Good. Turn around.” Jackson did as he was told and heard the knives from his back joining the ones on the coffee table. “When I told you to stay, I meant for you to stay in loft, not stay on the sofa.”

“I didn’t know that.”

Derek opened the cuts in the shirt, looking at the scars on Jackson’s back. “We don’t scar.”

“I know.”

“Then why aren’t you healing them?”

“Because I’m not one of you. If I was pack, I would have emotions.”

Derek stared at Jackson’s neck for a long while, before he nodded and stepped back. “Go shower.”

“Okay.” Jackson stepped towards Derek’s room.

“Take your suitcase with you.”

Jackson turned and grabbed the suitcase, making his way into Derek’s room. He stripped and showered, seeing the water tainted with his dried blood. He washed and stepped out, looking at his reflection. He saw the scar over his heart. He would never be pack again.

* * *

Derek sat on his bed, waiting for Jackson to come out of the bathroom. He knew Jackson needed another lesson, but it was one that Derek didn’t want to deliver. He knew the previous lesson had stuck with him. He had felt Jackson at the other end of the link, trying to offer the comfort to soothe his raging wolf.

Seeing the blood on Jackson’s shirt that morning wasn’t something Derek ever wanted to see again. Coming home to it was worse. His own damn uncle had tried to kill Jackson and for what? Just to say he did? He would need to rip Peter apart after he was done with Jackson. If Jackson was going to bleed for anyone it would be for _him_ , his _alpha_.

Holding his head, Derek closed his eyes. He prayed that Jackson never asked again if he was pack. He was tired of never having the answer he wanted to give. How could he know if Jackson was pack? His youngest pup could kill all of them, even him and think there was nothing wrong with it. He didn’t smell like pack, either. He didn’t smell like home. There was nothing to prove he was a werewolf.

Derek’s eyes flew open as the scene of Jackson cutting off his fingers resurfaced. He thought he had repressed that memory. Jackson had done it without a hint of anxiety. He knew what was going to happen when he removed his fingers, but he had probably done the same thing the first time. Knowing he couldn’t feel pain meant he could try to kill himself, at least four times.

How could he keep someone like that around his pack? He didn’t need Isaac waking up one morning to find Jackson disemboweling himself, just to check a fact for biology. Or pouring acid on himself for a reaction for chemistry. That wouldn’t be fair on Isaac and no one should have to witness that.

Jackson finally left the bathroom, fully dressed and went to leave the bedroom. “Stop,” Derek told him and Jackson turned to him, tilting his head. He was tired of seeing nothing there. “Come here.”

Tilting his head to the other side, Jackson stopped a few feet from Derek. Glaring at the boy, Derek found his thread as a beta and tugged him closer. He might not smell like pack, but if Derek had that link with him, he was still pack. Until that thread disappeared, Jackson was his responsibility. He needed to make sure Jackson remembered where he belonged.

“What do you feel?”

“Nothing.”

Derek nodded and opened his emotional link to Jackson. He watched Jackson’s face, saw the life come back into his eyes. He heard the heart beginning to beat again. “What do you feel?”

Jackson frowned, not because he was confused, but because he was uncomfortable. “Warmth.”

There was the old Jackson. The one that didn’t need anyone to look after him. The one that was too good for emotions. “Why did you try to kill yourself?” Derek asked.

“That hasn’t changed. I needed to know if I could die.”

Derek lowered his eyes for a moment and then stared at Jackson, watching as he rolled his shoulders. He really didn’t like having someone look after him. He wanted to prove that he was a big boy and could look after himself. Derek knew that was bullshit. Jackson would always need someone to watch over him – mostly to save him from himself.

Reaching out, Derek grabbed Jackson’s left hand, not surprised when Jackson tried to pull it away. He had missed that fight in Jackson. He didn’t want his alpha fussing about him, despite craving it. He lifted the shirt and found a scar on Jackson’s chest. He had no idea what Jackson was, but he could wolf out when he was angry or when Derek was angry.

“You aren’t a weapon, Jackson,” Derek said quietly, holding his hand and massaging the fingers. “You’re Jackson Whittemore. You’re not some creature that we’re gonna drop on our enemies.”

“God, you’re an idiot,” Jackson sneered and Derek glared. “Why _wouldn’t_ you use me for that? I can’t die, dumbass.”

That was one thing he wasn’t sure if he missed. Jackson’s mouth and his inability to think before he spoke. He still had that inability, it seemed. He always answered without thinking, even if the answer was one Derek didn’t want to hear.

“We don’t know if that’s true,” Derek stated and stood, dropping Jackson’s hand. “I’m not going to lose any member of my pack, even you.”

Jackson stood his ground, glaring up at Derek. “What does it matter? Peter stabbed me nine times. I didn’t feel any of it. He even stabbed me in the ear – clear shot to the brain. And hey, would you check it out? I’m still fucking standing!”

“Don’t make me put you in your place, pup,” Derek warned, his eyes flashing red.

“Try it,” Jackson challenged.

Derek went to grip Jackson’s neck, only to have his hand slapped away, _hard_. Jackson had a lot of strength in him, even when he was an angry jerk. Reaching out again, Jackson slapped his hand down. Jackson couldn’t feel pain, he probably couldn’t feel anything.

His annoyance spiking, Derek grabbed Jackson’s shoulder and spun him around. He pinned the young wolf to the wall beside his door, growling. His hand firmly on Jackson’s neck, he glared at the young pup that had been nothing but a pain for him. From the blackmail for a bite, to the kanima and now this. He was almost at his wit’s end, waiting for Jackson to be the wolf he was meant to be.

“I’m still your alpha,” he said, his eyes flashing red. “And if you continue to anger me on purpose, I _will_ put you in your place.”

“And where would that be? At the bottom of your pack? I’m already there.” A smirk spread across Jackson’s for a moment, his eyes sparkling. “Or under you?”

“Keep dreaming, pup,” Derek said and pushed back from Jackson, shutting down the link. The smirk fell from Jackson’s face and his eyes lost that luster. “Get out of my room.”

“Okay.”

Derek turned away and flinched. He really hated that word.

* * *

When the others were asleep, aside from Jackson, who was staring out the window, Derek sat at the table with Peter. After giving his uncle the beat down he deserved, and giving him an hour to regain some strength, he wanted answers. Not for what he did to Jackson. Hell, Derek would be lying if he said he didn’t want to stab Jackson sometimes.

“Did you find them?” Derek asked, sipping his tea.

“No. Their scent is all over the town and I couldn’t tell which was the freshest one. They’re a crafty lot.” Peter rolled his shoulder and glanced at Jackson.

“Why would they show up here, knowing there’s an established pack?” Derek looked at the photo of the symbol on the door of the Hale house. Even from the photo he could feel its power.

“I think that answers your question.” Peter glanced down at the photo. “They’re either recruiting or trying to have more territory.”

Derek didn’t like any of those choices. His eyes drifted over to Jackson, the idea dancing through his mind. No. He couldn’t send Jackson out to face off against a pack of werewolves. They had smelled eight different scents. That was a decent pack to wipe them out, especially if there was an alpha pair.

Aside from the symbol, they hadn’t tried to make contact. Boyd, Erica and Isaac had said there were no new students at school, for the moment. They had only picked up their scents a couple of days ago. If they knew how to hide their scent, they could have been there longer.

Sitting back, Derek closed his eyes. Why hadn’t they reached out? If they didn’t want to fight fairly, Derek was fine with that. If they hurt any of his pack, he would murder them all. Opening his eyes, he gazed at Peter, still lost in his thoughts. He remembered when packs would move through, during his youth. They stopped by, just to let the reigning pack know they were there and would move on within a few days.

“I could ask them why they’re here,” Jackson offered, not turning from the window.

“No,” Derek growled, glaring at the picture.

“He’s got a point, nephew. They might try to intimidate him. When that doesn’t work, they might think the rest of the pack is like him,” Peter said, wincing as he raised his mug.

“He doesn’t smell like my pack,” Derek stated, forcing back a flinch. He hadn’t meant to say that.

“Even better,” Jackson said with that same monotone voice, reminding Derek that nothing meant anything to him. “They won’t blame you when I kill them.”

Peter stared at Jackson. “Are you sure you want the old Jackson back? I kinda like this badass.”

Derek glared at Peter, before turning it to Jackson. “You’re not going to kill anyone.”

“You should use me, Derek,” Jackson said simply. “I’m your best chance of thinning that pack.”

“No,” Derek growled, noticing the way Jackson’s shoulders tensed. He let that anger wash into Jackson. “You’ve killed enough people for one lifetime.”

“And if they attack us?” Jackson shot back, finally turning from the window. “How do you plan on keeping your precious pack from getting the blue eyes? I already have them.”

Derek refused to let the guilt cloud his anger. He knew he was responsible for Jackson’s blue eyes as much as Matt was. “You had an excuse for that, Jackson. This time, you don’t. If I learn that—”

“What about your pack, Hale?” Jackson demanded and gestured down the hallway. “What about Isaac? You want him dying or having to kill?”

“That’s part of being a werewolf,” Derek stated and stood, mostly to prevent Jackson from running out the door. “Something you should be learning.”

“That being a werewolf means you hide and cower?” Jackson shook his head. “Didn’t you use to give me shit for always being scared? You’re not any better, you bitch!”

“There’s a difference between being scared of my shadow and starting a fucking turf war that could destroy a town!”

“If I kill them, there’ll be no fucking turf war, jackass,’ Jackson said with a growl.

“There’s at least _one_ alpha in that group, moron,” Derek snapped and felt his eyes turning red. He pushed back his wolf, not wanting to fight Jackson in his home. “I thought you were smarter than this.”

Derek kept his face neutral as anger flashed through Jackson’s eyes. The anger was coming more naturally to him than any other emotion. Derek should have known that would be the case. He was feeding Jackson his emotions and he had a lot of anger, towards everything.

But just as quickly as the anger flashed through, it was replaced with something else. Something that Derek never thought possible. Sadness. His own sadness. Jackson was actually upset at his words, as though being told he wasn’t smart was something he’d had to deal with.

Derek realized that Jackson was extremely intelligent. He had to be, in order to make sure his parents weren’t disappointed with him. He had to be the perfect boy, in absolutely every way possible, just so he could keep others happy.

“I never thought you’d be dumb enough to think _you_ could take out an alpha.” Derek smirked, adding as much salt as possible to the wound. “You’ve never been able to do anything right in your life. How stupid can you get?”

Derek watched as Jackson tried to get angry; tried to hide his sadness through another emotion. His eyes widened when Jackson stormed passed him, ripping the loft door from the rollers and throwing it behind him. It took out the window and the wall, forcing Derek to duck for cover behind the dining table.

Peter had ducked and popped his head over the table. “ _Why_ do we want the old Jackson back?”

Derek shut down the link, knowing that Jackson wouldn’t hunt down the pack without his permission. He looked at the state of his loft and figured it was time to move those meetings to the old house. He couldn’t do as much damage there.

Going to his room, Derek tried telling himself that he had done the right thing. Jackson had learned sorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Next chapter, some things start to get explained. Hope to see ya there!  
> Thanks for the kudos.
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	4. Stress

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Stress

Standing where the window used to be, Jackson watched as the cars drove by. He ignored the chatter of the people, almost wishing someone was occupying his mind. It wasn’t until that thought crossed it that he realized he had spent the last two days staring out the hole he created, not thinking anything.

The door destroying part of a wall had roused the others, who somehow managed to sleep through the argument. They came out and Jackson could smell their surprise. Once the link shut down, that god awful feeling that was coursing through him vanished. He didn’t know where he was going. All he knew was that he needed to get away from Derek.

As for Derek, he refused to look at Jackson. Something told him that should hurt and there was a slight pain, whenever Derek walked past him without a glance. There was also a faint beating in his chest whenever that happened. _That_ he didn’t like. He remembered when he was angry with Derek, in the kitchen. His heart had been beating then and he didn’t feel anything when he cut his fingers off, showing Derek that he was a monster.

His chest gave a painful thump at that and Jackson placed his hand over it. He wasn’t sure what it was about, but the pain disappeared and the thumping stopped. He straightened and went back to staring out the window, deciding that thinking about anything was the problem. He was better off being that monster he was.

Tilting his head, Jackson stared at the young man across the street. He had a cell phone to his ear, but there was no voice on the other side. He was discussing something to do with markets and spreadsheets, glancing at the hole in the wall. Jackson kept watching him, until he noticed how the man shifted uncomfortably. He had already caught the scent. It was another werewolf.

“They know.”

Derek and Peter stood either side of Jackson, looking down at the man he was staring at. The man looked at them and grinned, trying to appear nervous, but his heart was steady. Derek looked over Jackson’s head and nodded at Peter, giving him permission to _talk_ to the other werewolf. Jackson knew that Derek wanted to open a line of communication, but that still made no sense to him.

“I’m going to the hardware store to get something for…this,” Derek said as he waved a hand at the hole in the wall and still without looking at Jackson. “Stay.”

Jackson nodded, which made him frown. He usually spoke when given an order, to let them know he had heard it. Opening his mouth, Jackson closed it when he heard the elevator. He was glad for it. His throat was suddenly dry, like he was upset about something. He pushed it from his mind and watched Peter with the man.

“Hey,” Peter said as he approached. The other pocketed their cell phone and flashed his gold eyes. “Yeah, yeah, I get it. You’re a werewolf. Who isn’t?”

“That isn’t,” the man said, nodding at Jackson.

Peter turned around and looked at Jackson, giving him a grin. “Yeah, he’s a werewolf, as well,” he said as he turned back to the man. “Peter.” He held his hand out and the other wrinkled his nose. “Ahh, so you’re not here for niceties, then.”

The man growled, practically bristling at the accusation. “Mike,” he finally grounded out. “I was sent here to watch the alpha.”

“Well, you probably could’ve howled. I’m sure he would’ve come running. He’s the one that’s stopping a massacre on your pack. But I’ll tell him you stopped by.” Peter grinned and crossed the street, coming back to the loft. “I think that’ll piss them off.”

Jackson watched as Mike walked off, disappearing into the maze of streets. He didn’t know what that meant for the pack. He was almost certain that Peter had made a threat against them, but he had also seen the picture of the symbol. That had Peter very worried about the pack, despite how he played it.

“Now, we get to see how they respond. If we’re lucky, they’ll try to kill me and you can eliminate the threat.” Peter chuckled.

“Okay.”

Without Derek around, Jackson assumed he was supposed to look to Peter for guidance. He was the oldest of the werewolves and he knew their etiquette better than Derek. That didn’t seem to stop him from trying to start a turf war, though. If he put the pack in danger, Jackson knew he would kill Peter without a thought.

“I love our conversations, Jackson,” Peter said with a grin, resting an arm on Jackson’s shoulder.

“Okay.”

Jackson stayed where he was, even as Peter slapped him on the shoulder. He remained where he was, even as the television went on and Peter started laughing at some show. He stayed in place when Derek returned with a wheelbarrow, tools and bags of cement and sand. The only time he moved was when Derek told him to and he only retreated two paces. He needed to keep watch.

“Who was the werewolf watching us?” Derek asked, removing the broken bricks from the hole.

“Said his name was Mike. Was here to watch you, but realized you slipped out,” Peter said, not taking his eyes off the television. When he heard the tapping of Derek removing the bricks, he looked over. “Kid did a lot of damage, didn’t he?”

“Yes, he did. And that’s why I’ll never send him after that pack,” Derek muttered, dropping the broken bricks to the floor. “I can’t trust him.”

Jackson decided that trust was a big thing to Derek, as he had said it twice. He didn’t trust him. Jackson could live with that. He didn’t know or understand what trust was and he was almost certain he didn’t want to know. Derek held it in high esteem, which was probably why Jackson didn’t want to know about it.

“Okay.”

* * *

By the time Boyd, Erica and Isaac returned from school, Derek had almost laid all the bricks. He kept the holes for the windows, giving Jackson a perfect view out into the street. He had seen Mike and another show up for all of sixty seconds and then disappear again.

“They’re coming.”

Jackson felt all eyes turn to him. The others crowded around, looking out the hole, trying to see what he saw. He didn’t see anything, but he could feel a threat descending upon them. It was a threat he needed to eliminate, if he could move. But Derek was the master and had told him to stay. No, not the master. Derek was the alpha that ordered him to stay where he was.

After a few minutes, he felt Derek tense. Another few minutes and the visiting pack came into view. They rallied across the street, staring up at the hole. Staring back at those that were staring at them. Erica leaned out and Derek pulled her back. Three sets of eyes flashed red and Jackson felt something in his abdomen sink, but it hadn’t come from him.

Looking at Derek, Jackson smelled something he wasn’t used to on Derek. It was fear, which was quickly covered. Derek turned from the window as the pack crossed the street and made their way into the building. Where the door had been was a gaping hole and Jackson felt Derek glare at him. The door wouldn’t have stopped them for long, but it may have given them a chance to escape.

The others waited, tension rising in the room. Jackson stepped forward when he saw the red eyes in shadows, moving closer to the pack. Derek pulled him back and approached the alpha that was intruding on their turf. Boyd and Erica rallied in front of Jackson and Isaac, ready to kill for their alpha if he needed it.

“Well, what a cute pack you have,” she said.

Jackson frowned as Erica growled at her. He hadn’t found anything wrong with her words, but he couldn’t place the smile on her face. The micro expressions were definitely alien to him, but he knew there was something in those words. Erica had better control of her emotions than that.

The alpha’s eyes returned to their human color, hazel. She looked over the pack, her eyes lingering on Jackson. She frowned, narrowing her eyes for a moment and then continued to scan the rest. Finally, they went back to Derek and the smile returned.

“We heard that you wanted us to howl, so you wouldn’t set up a massacre,” she said and laughed.

Erica snarled and went to charge forward, only to have Derek’s arm go out and stop her. “I never said that. I wanted to open a line of communication to know why you’re in my territory,” he said, not taking his eyes from her.

“Oh, don’t worry, alpha. I know you weren’t responsible for the threat. You would’ve done it to our faces, instead of trying to scare my beta.” Her eyes scanned the group again. “I heard it was those two who made the threat.” She pointed to Peter and Jackson.

Tilting his head, Jackson stepped between Erica and Boyd. He stood beside Derek and stared at the woman. “You’re a threat.”

“Oh,” she chuckled. “I’m not a threat…yet.” She turned her eyes to Derek. “I’m not here to take out your pack, Hale. I just want the two that threatened _my_ pack.”

Derek glared over his shoulder at Peter, before his eyes slid to Jackson. “You can’t have them. All I have is your word that a threat was sent out,” he said.

The woman smiled. “I just want that beta,” she said, pointing to Peter. “And that…” She trailed off and stared at Jackson, sniffing at him. “Whatever that is.”

Jackson felt that painful thump in his chest again at those words. He wasn’t a person in her eyes. Despite being with Derek, he wasn’t a werewolf. He was a thing, something that was unknown. Something that had no scent and therefore wasn’t alive.

“He’s in my pack,” Derek said, standing in front of Jackson. “He’s my beta,” he added forcefully.

The woman raised an eyebrow. “Of course he is,” she said and Jackson recognized the mocking undertone. “I know plenty of betas that smell like nothing. But I still want them for punishment.”

Derek squared his shoulders. “I’ll punish them for making a threat against your pack. It was never my intention to start a war.”

Silence fell over the loft for a while, Derek and the unknown alpha staring at each other, as though trying to find some lie or some reason to fight. _Innocents._ Jackson turned from the alphas and went to the window, staring down at the street.

Finding that link, Jackson knew he had to send something to Derek. He needed to send some kind of warning, but he didn’t know what he should send. He knew compassion and sorrow. How was that going to tell Derek that Stiles and Scott were on their way over?

Instead of trying to send through an emotion, Jackson simply said, _Stiles and Scott. Inbound._ The tension in the room rose another notch and Jackson knew Derek had received the message. It was time to get the other pack out of the building before the other two arrived. None of them needed the pack knowing that there were others helping them.

“I said I would punish them. If your pack did the same to mine, I would expect you to punish them accordingly,” Derek said, keeping his emotions and heart calm. “If there’s nothing else, we were trying to have dinner when you interrupted us.”

The woman narrowed her eyes, glancing at Jackson, who turned to face her. “I’ll be by tomorrow, to inspect their wounds. I want to make sure they’re properly punished. An alpha can’t be soft on their betas.” She smiled and backed away from the pack. It wasn’t until she was through door that she turned her back on them.

“What a bitch,” Erica muttered and glared at the floor when Derek growled at her.

Jackson stood beside Erica, staring at the door. “You should have handed me to her,” he said. “It would have protected the pack and made them leave sooner. They’ll cross paths.”

Derek went to the window, watching as the pack left the building. “I wasn’t going to hand over the one that didn’t do anything,” he said and glared at Peter. “I told you to _talk_ to him. I said nothing about threatening them.”

“All I said is that you’re the reason their pack wasn’t massacred,” Peter said with a shrug. “Not my fault they took it as a threat.”

“How else were they meant to take it?” Jackson demanded as he shot a scathing glance at Peter. “God, you’re an idiot.”

Isaac raised an eyebrow. “When did Jackson learn anger?”

“He hasn’t,” Derek answered and sighed, the anger dying off.

Erica turned to Derek, staring at him. “He felt that from you?”

“Boyd, go and wait for Scott and Stilinski downstairs. Isaac, you need to finish your homework.” Derek turned to Erica. “And you’re in charge of ordering the pizzas.”

Erica rolled her eyes, but pulled out her cell phone and began making the order. Jackson watched as Boyd disappeared through the doorway, hearing Isaac moving back to the table and opening his books. Peter was making coffee and tea and Jackson didn’t know what to do.

He did his homework when the others were asleep, as it gave him something to do. After that, he kept watch over the pack. That new pack was going to cause problems for them.

“Hey, Boyd,” Scott greeted when they were a block away. “Just had a run-in with another pack. Does Derek know about them?”

“Yeah, they just left,” Boyd answered.

“They were pissed off,” Scott remarked as he walked beside Boyd. “What did Derek do?”

Jackson felt the heat bubbling in his stomach and glared at Peter, his eyes sparkling blue. Peter stared at him, eyebrow raised, before his eyes went to Derek. “Calm down, nephew,” he said.

“Why?” Derek demanded and turned to Peter. “You’re the one that angered them and I’m the one being blamed.”

“The perks of being the alpha, dear nephew,” Peter commented, pouring coffee into two mugs. “You’ll always be responsible for everything your pack does, even if you don’t like it.”

“I can kill him and not leave a trace of it,” Jackson offered, advancing a step. He stopped when the anger left him and went back to the window, staring out it.

“Hello!” Stiles greeted happily, which died off quickly. “Jesus. What happened?”

“Jackson,” Boyd, Erica and Isaac answered.

“I figured the door would be the first thing replaced,” Stiles said, going over to the window and looking at the fresh cement. “Whatever. I need some of your blood, Jackson.”

Without a word, Jackson went into the kitchen and grabbed a steak knife. He stabbed it through his palm and removed it, handing the knife to Stiles. He went back to the window and stared out, ignoring the shouts of surprise. He shut down the link between him and Derek, not wanting to feel anything from the alpha at him doing what was asked.

“This is gonna sound really weird,” Stiles said as he removed his backpack. “But I think Jackson has regenerative abilities.”

“He does,” Derek growled, glaring at the stationary body by the window. “He decided to test it a couple of days ago. His mother watched him stab himself in the ear.” There was a slight pause, before Derek’s glare intensified. “And god fucking help you if you say, ‘it’s the quickest path to the brain,’ again.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow. “It is, though.” Panic flooded the human when Derek growled. “Look, I’m not saying what he did was right or good, but he was definitely right about that. Aside from a gun, that is the quickest way to the brain.”

Jackson tilted his head. “I didn’t think about a gun,” he said.

“Good,” Derek snarled and turned his glare to Stiles and Scott. “That’s all you’re here for?”

“No.” Stiles opened his backpack and pulled out his pocketknife. “His blood can heal others.”

Inhaling deeply, Stiles cut himself. The werewolves growled as the scent of his blood filled the room and Jackson turned, watching him intently. Dabbing his finger into Jackson’s blood, Stiles smeared it over his cut. Derek’s eyes widened as he saw the cut heal over and then looked at Jackson, who stared back at them.

Erica frowned. “How did you learn that?” she asked, eyes narrowed suspiciously. “You cut yourself and just decided to use Jackson’s blood as a band-aid?”

“Come on, I’m not that crazy,” Stiles said, wiping Jackson’s blood off his arm. “His blood is alive. Once blood leaves the body, it dies off. His doesn’t. His heart and brain might be dead, and have probably been dead for a long time, but his blood isn’t.”

Silence fell over the group as they stared at Jackson. Peter was the first to break it. “Well, that’s just great and all, but that doesn’t explain _why_ his blood can do that. Werewolf blood doesn’t work that way.”

“Look, I’ve exhausted everything I possibly could,” Stiles said as he wiped off the steak knife. “Don’t you remember how long it took us to learn about the kanima?”

It was almost light a lightbulb had gone off in the room. Jackson tilted his head. He didn’t know what they were thinking about, but when their eyes turned to him, he simply tilted his head to the other side. Derek grabbed his arm and threw him at Scott and Stiles.

“Get Deaton to look him over. I need to stay here and make sure the new pack doesn’t come back.”

* * *

Jackson sat on a gurney, staring at the wall in front of him. Deaton was in the middle of getting things prepared, in order to test Jackson. He had seen Jackson’s eyes and seemed to know that something was wrong with him, but Jackson was used to that.

“This might hurt,” Deaton said as he turned around, holding a scalpel. He slid it along Jackson’s arm, frowning when the cut healed over. “That’s even faster than a werewolf,” he muttered.

“Limbs regrew just as fast,” Scott said as he stood beside Deaton.

“Limbs?” Deaton asked, his eyebrows going up.

“Give him a demonstration, Jackson,” Stiles said with a grin.

Jackson grabbed the scalpel and removed the index finger from his left hand. Deaton’s eyes widened as the finger was back in seconds. “You didn’t feel that?”

“No.”

Deaton picked up Jackson’s finger, smearing some of the blood onto a slide. He went to a microscope and hummed as he looked at the specimen. After a few minutes, he turned around and gazed at Jackson’s back. His eyes ran over the scars from the knives for a moment, before he moved in front of him. He placed a stethoscope to Jackson’s chest, trying to find his heart.

“Well, this is a new one to me, as well,” Deaton stated as he stepped back, staring at Jackson. “He should be dead.”

“He did die…twice,” Stiles said, rubbing his chin. “Maybe that had something to do with this?”

“I probably should have given him a checkup the next day,” Deaton said and sighed. “How’s your appetite?”

“Non-existent.”

“The last time you slept?”

“Three months ago.”

“When was the last time you felt anything?”

“About an hour ago, when Derek was angry with his uncle.”

“Derek?” Deaton lowered Jackson’s head and ran his fingers along the neck, as though searching for something. He released Jackson’s head. “Tell me about Derek, Jackson.”

“He’s the alpha of the pack,” Jackson said as he stared at the wall ahead of him.

Scott and Stiles glanced at each other, frowning. “Why are you asking him to tell you about Derek?” Scott asked, standing beside Deaton. “You know Derek.”

Deaton patted Scott on the shoulder and stood in front of Jackson. “Is he a good alpha?”

“I don’t know.”

Deaton nodded, picking up Jackson’s hand and looking at the finger. “Do you like him?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“Do you care about him?”

“I don’t know what that means.”

“How does Derek make you feel?”

Jackson stared at Deaton, trying to understand the question. One word flitted through his mind, but he discarded it. He didn’t know if Derek made him feel that way, as he didn’t know if he felt anything for the alpha. He knew he should fear and respect the alpha, but he didn’t know how.

“I don’t know,” Jackson finally answered and Deaton nodded with a smile.

“Well, that’s a good sign. You actually had to think about that question, which means your brain is still functioning. What do you think about Scott?”

“He’s a beta and must be protected.”

“And what about Stiles?”

“He’s a human and must be protected at all costs.”

Deaton ran his thumb over the scar on the top of Jackson’s hand, turning it around and looking at the palm. “And what about your pack?”

“I’m not pack.”

Deaton frowned, as did Stiles and Scott. “Derek is your alpha, Jackson.”

“Derek is the alpha.”

Deaton glanced between Scott and Stiles, before he checked the scar on Jackson’s chest. “And what about Derek? Does he need your protection?”

“I must die protecting the alpha.”

Twenty minutes later, Jackson was standing in the waiting room, staring out the door. Deaton was speaking with Scott and Stiles. He figured that Deaton wanted some privacy, but Jackson heard everything said. He doubted any of the information would be relevant.

“As far as I can tell, he’s fine, for someone that should be dead,” Deaton said as he washed his hands.

“What was with all the questions about Derek?” Scott asked.

“He has to think about Derek, as though he’s searching for the right answer. He didn’t do that with anyone else. He’s connected to Derek on a deeper level,” Deaton answered as he dried his hands. “He doesn’t even consider himself a member of Derek’s pack. But he would die defending Derek. And Stiles.”

“Gee, that’s not awkward,” Stiles muttered. “He’s hated me for most of his life. Why would he suddenly want to die protecting me?”

“Maybe he’s grown,” Deaton said. “Put that down before you hurt yourself.” A scalpel was dropped. “All I know is that Jackson feels like he doesn’t belong anywhere. Does anyone know if he remembers anything from being the kanima?”

Stiles opened the door and poked his head through. “Do you remember anything from your time as a kanima?”

“Yes.”

“What do you remember?”

“Everything.”

“Damn,” Stiles whispered and closed the door again. “Okay, fair enough. I doubt even old Jackson would want to murder people, when he could just kick the shit out of them on the field.”

“There you go. It’s the best I can offer for now. I’ll speak to some contacts and do a little research, but as far as I can tell, he’s just searching for his place.” A tray was moved.

“And what about his connection to Derek? Could that help him?” Scott asked.

“I think it already has.” Deaton was silent for a moment. “He hasn’t killed anyone, has he?”

There was a long silence and Stiles swallowed loudly. “You think he would?”

“He doesn’t have emotions, Stiles. He doesn’t care about anything, except protecting the alpha and the humans associated with the alpha. If he wasn’t with your group, he would kill anyone that tried to stop him searching for his place. I think, anyway. It just seems that way.” There was a hint of sadness in Deaton’s voice and Jackson frowned, looking over his shoulder.

_I’m searching for my place?_ Jackson straightened his head, deciding that maybe it wasn’t completely useless to listen in. He hadn’t even thought that he was lost, but that could be because of those few days as a werewolf. He couldn’t remember any of the emotions he felt from that time, but he was almost certain they were nice.

“By the way,” Deaton said as Scott and Stiles headed for the door. “Has Jackson shown any spontaneous emotions recently?”

“You could say that,” Scott said. “I think he was about to kill Peter tonight.” There was a pause. “Why?”

“Just something else to add to my list.” Deaton opened the door, letting Scott and Stiles out. “Be careful of that new pack. I don’t think they’re here for tea and cake.”

Stiles looked at Jackson for a moment, before he turned his eyes to Deaton. “Would his lack of emotions give him super strength and regeneration?”

“Super strength?” Deaton repeated.

Scott sighed. “He kind of destroyed Derek’s loft a little, by throwing a door.”

Deaton’s eyebrows went up as he stared at Jackson. “Interesting,” he said. “I’ll look into it, but I can’t see why lack of emotions would make him that strong.”

“They’re searching for me,” Jackson said, feeling the threat grow closer.

“Who is?” Stiles asked as he stood beside Jackson, staring out the door.

“The new pack.”

“You can feel them?” Deaton asked, standing beside Stiles.

“The threat must be eliminated.”

Deaton nodded slowly, gazing at Jackson. “And how do you know they’re looking for you?”

Jackson looked at Deaton. “Because I’m a threat that must be eliminated.”

* * *

Derek stared out the window, waiting for any sign of Jackson and the others. He knew he had to sniff out Scott and Stiles, as he couldn’t smell Jackson. That’s what he did. Every few minutes, he leaned out the hole and sniffed the air, waiting to catch their scents. He was worried.

Even Isaac and Erica had asked if it should take that long. Three hours they had been gone for. Three hours and not one phone call. Derek expected that from Jackson, but he figured Scott or Stiles would have called him. That was one of his pack wandering around with them and they hadn’t called. He expected them to call just to tell him what Deaton said, but his phone didn’t move.

After two hours, Derek had sent Erica and Isaac to their rooms. He doubted they would sleep, but he didn’t need them watching him worry. He didn’t need them seeing him leaning out the window every minute, trying to catch a scent of someone familiar.

Finally, at long freaking last, Derek caught the scent of Stiles and Scott walking towards the loft. Keeping his fear and anger wrapped up, Derek sat down on the sofa and picked up a book. He didn’t need any of them knowing he was worried about them. He was completely in control.

Ten minutes later, Stiles and Scott came up in the elevator, while Jackson walked up the stairs. They arrived together and Derek glanced at their faces. Jackson’s was vacant, his eyes sparkling blue for a moment, before it disappeared. He went to the window and stood there, staring out into the night. Stiles was chewing his lip nervously, watching Jackson.

“What did Deaton have to say?” Derek asked.

“He doesn’t know, either,” Scott answered and paced in front of the sofa. “By all accounts, all anyone can agree on is that Jackson should be dead.”

Boyd, Erica and Isaac came out of their rooms. Relief flooding through them when they saw Jackson in his usual spot. Derek growled at them, wanting them to sleep before school. There were mutters of protest, but the three betas returned to their rooms.

“Is that all?” Derek inquired, closing his book.

“He asked Jackson a bunch of questions,” Scott said and paused in his pacing. “Hey, Isaac, what is Derek?”

“He’s my alpha,” Isaac answered immediately.

“Jackson, what is Derek?”

“He’s the alpha.”

Derek turned and stared at Jackson. That stung. He wasn’t just _the_ alpha, he was _Jackson’s_ alpha. He was the one that turned him. He was the one that accepted him as a werewolf. He was part of the pack, whether he liked it not. He wasn’t some stranger.

“What do you think about me, Jackson?”

“You’re a beta and must be protected.”

Scott placed a hand on Stiles’ shoulder. “And what about Stiles?”

“He’s a human and must be protected at all costs.”

Derek frowned and stood, staring at Jackson. For someone that didn’t have emotions, Jackson certainly felt like he needed to protect others. He was beginning to regret not going with them. He wanted to know what else was said, aside from Jackson being alive when he shouldn’t be. He was beginning to tire of hearing that.

As he opened his mouth to question Jackson, Scott held his hand up. “Allow me. You need to hear this. And what about Derek? Does he need your protection?”

“I must die for the alpha.”

Derek’s heart thumped painfully in his chest and he made sure the link was closed off. He was hoping that Jackson would refer to him as ‘his alpha.’ Instead, it was still ‘the alpha.’ He knew he really hadn’t done much for Jackson, in terms of being a werewolf, but there wasn’t much time to help him, before he lost his emotions and his ability to function normally.

However, when he thrust that to the side, he thought on Jackson’s words. He hadn’t said he would die for the alpha, but that he _must_ die for the alpha. That didn’t make any sense. Jackson literally couldn’t die, he had to know he couldn’t. As much as he didn’t want it to, those words scared Derek.

“What else happened?”

Stiles exhaled, fingers twisting nervously. “Deaton thinks – _thinks_ – Jackson lost his emotions because he’s searching for his place in the world.”

Derek glared at Scott. “His place in the world is in my pack,” he snapped and Scott shrugged.

“You might wanna try snarling that at Jackson. He’s the one that needs to hear it.”

Derek reined in his wolf. “I will, when I have the time. What took you so long?”

Scott and Stiles looked at Jackson and Derek frowned, following their gaze. Jackson was still staring out the window, apparently not hearing anything. Looking back at the other two, Derek raised an eyebrow. He assumed it was a simple question.

“They were searching for me,” Jackson said after a short silence.

“You sensed them searching for you?”

“Yes.”

Derek frowned. He could feel when he was being hunted, but that was only when he was being hunted. He needed to feel the eyes and catch their scent. Jackson hadn’t said that he caught their scent, but something told him that Jackson needed any of that. He always knew when threats were around, long before anyone else did. Maybe Peter was right.

Giving his head a slight shake, Derek shoved that thought away. The day he started agreeing with Peter about sending one of the pack out to die was the day he proclaimed his love of strawberry ice-cream.

“Do you know why they were searching for you?”

“Because I’m a threat and must be eliminated.”

Derek lowered his eyes. Jackson had stated it, like it was a fact. He refused to believe that. Jackson Whittemore wasn’t a threat to anyone. _When he was a human,_ Derek’s mind reminded him. He hadn’t seen much of Jackson as a werewolf, but he seemed to pick up strategies and lessons quickly. He needed to stop thinking of Jackson as that scared human, who wanted something he knew nothing about.

“Why would they see you as a threat?”

“What else would you call something that shouldn’t exist?” Jackson asked, finally looking at Derek.

“You heard what that alpha bitch said, Derek,” Erica said from her room. “She didn’t ask who Jackson was, she asked _what_ he was.”

Derek kept his eyes on Jackson, watching as his eyes lowered for a moment. The words affected him. They hurt him, which was a cause for celebration. Jackson had his sorrow back, though it seemed he preferred to keep it locked away. Derek didn’t blame him and understood why that was.

Unfortunately, before he could think too much on Jackson showing _an_ emotion, Derek was brought back to the question. “And does anyone have an answer for me?” he asked, turning from Jackson. “He’s not a werewolf, he’s not a kanima…he sure as fuck isn’t human.”

Peter sighed and rested back in his chair at the dining table. “Firstly, he _is_ a werewolf. He still has the eyes of one. Secondly, he’s a threat to the natural order of balance. That’s why he can’t die.”

Stiles closed his eyes and groaned. “Of course,” he said and opened his eyes. “You can’t die if you don’t exist.”

“Exactly, which is why his blood heals, as well.” Peter stood up and went to Jackson. “It’s trying so hard _to_ exist, that it would cure the world just to prove it’s real.”

“And the regeneration?” Derek asked, eyes on his uncle. He hadn’t said anything about knowing this before. Where did it suddenly come from?

“Probably a side-effect of the kanima.”

“Uh-huh,” Stiles said, cocking an eyebrow. “And how did you come up with this?”

Peter pulled a small, battered journal from his back pocket and tossed it to Derek. “Turns out things that shouldn’t exist, but do, while extremely rare, does exist.”

Derek frowned and flipped through the journal, reading the small words. The author had come across something that couldn’t be killed, while with a werewolf pack. “Did you steal this from the Argents?”

“They weren’t using it,” Peter said. “I also did some digging about Jackson, as well. His adoption records are sealed, but the death certificates for his parents weren’t. When’s your birthday, Jackson?”

“June fifteenth.”

“Your parents were declared deceased on June fourteenth.” Jackson turned to Peter as silence fell over the loft. “You aren’t meant to be here.”

Derek stared at Jackson’s face. His eyes were wide, his lips parted as he searched Peter’s eyes for a lie. He was experiencing shock, disbelief, things he hadn’t felt in months. Things he was feeling on his own, emotions he was showing, even as Boyd, Erica and Isaac came out of their rooms and looked at him.

Unsure of what to do, Derek approached Jackson and hugged him. Erica was the second one to wrap her arms around Jackson, then Stiles and Derek felt it was getting too crowded. Before he could move, Boyd was behind him, locking him in place.

_No. Please, no._ Jackson’s voice sounded so small in Derek’s mind. He tightened his grip on the teen, lightly stroking his neck. _I’m sorry, Jackson._ Closing his eyes, Derek sent through as much warmth and comfort as he possibly could. He could feel it from the group that was smothering Jackson and Derek decided it was a good thing he didn’t need to breathe.

_No. Not now. Not with the pack in town._ Derek opened his eyes when he heard someone sniffle and glanced at Stiles. The human was clutching Jackson tightly, as though he could will him to exist. Derek never thought that Erica would be the second one to hug Jackson, as she hated him for his ability to best her at hide-and-retrieve.

_Bad news doesn’t wait, Jackson,_ Derek told him gently. Bad news never waited for anything. The worse the situation was, the quicker it came around. Thankfully, the pack wasn’t that much of a problem, unless they started finding bodies.

_Well, it has to,_ Jackson said and Derek raised an eyebrow. That sounded like the Jackson of old. _We don’t have time for this._ And Derek felt it. He felt the urgency to get something done and wondered how Jackson did that. When he was supposed to learn sorrow, he learned compassion. When he was meant to learn anger, he discovered sorrow. Now, when he was surrounded by his pack, all of them wanting to heal his wounds, he learned something completely different.

Derek knew that Jackson was different and viewed emotions differently from others. He never expected compassion to teach him stress, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it. Be sure to drop a kudos or comment.
> 
> Reddy_no_1: Your comment made me smile. And your English is still really good. I understand what you're saying. No need to worry there. As for the new pack and what it'll mean for their relationship... Not -exactly- good. I hope this chapter was to your liking and hope to hear from you again! Thank you.
> 
> To those that left kudos, thanks! You rock!
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	5. Anger

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Anger

Jackson stood at the window that Derek had installed a week ago. The pack hadn’t been back, deciding to let Derek handle his out of control betas. Jackson stared at the pavement. His mind was whirling, something it hadn’t done in months. There were questions flying around and he wanted them gone. He actually _wanted_ something.

Yet, even though he knew that was good, in Derek’s eyes, he didn’t know where it came from. He’d had questions before and he was never bothered by them. He could simply ignore them and they would vanish. Not anymore. They were flying around his mind, like someone had thrown a deck of cards in a tornado. They whipped by, stopping long enough to bring up a new problem.

His heart thudded in his chest, despite him trying to remain calm. It had gotten worse the last two days. After the pack released him, Jackson had shut down the link. He didn’t want Derek knowing what he was thinking or feeling and had returned to the window, ignoring the way everyone stared at him.

Being told that he shouldn’t exist wasn’t anything new. Jackson had thought that several times during his life. He just never knew how true it was. He couldn’t focus on himself, anyway. The alpha was worried about the new pack in the town and Jackson couldn’t be another problem for him. They needed to focus on cleansing their town, so things could return to normal.

_How? How do we cleanse the town?_ Jackson closed his eyes, trying to will away the questions. He knew the best way to cleanse the town, but Derek didn’t want him doing that. He was already a murderer, what difference would it make? Derek was right. He would find some way to make a bigger mess and then that would be another thing for him to clean up.

Opening his eyes, Jackson stared out the window. He relaxed his hands, unaware of when they became fists. Grabbing the pocketknife he lifted from Stiles, Jackson stabbed it through his hand. He let out a shaky breath when he felt no pain. He removed the knife and the wound healed over. While he couldn’t feel physical pain, he wondered about the others Stiles had mentioned.

Emotional and psychological pain. Jackson assumed he was suffering from those, as his body felt none of the pain. Why did Derek’s words hurt him so much? Was it because they were the truth, or because Derek wouldn’t give him a chance to prove he wasn’t the same fucked up kid? Jackson didn’t know the answer to any of them. All he knew was that Derek’s words meant a lot to him.

_You don’t exist,_ he told himself and he turned around, sliding down to the floor. Which was it? Was he searching for his place in the world, or did he not exist? For someone that didn’t exist, he certainly felt like he did. The emotions were new to him. He didn’t know what they were, only that they made things complicated. He wanted to cry, shout, scream and kill something.

Raising his eyes, Jackson stared at the new door fitted only yesterday. Lifting his hands, Jackson watched as they trembled. He had no idea what it was, but there was a bubbling heat in his stomach that was raising steadily. He knew that was anger, as that’s what Stiles called it. Stiles. He had answers.

Derek sighed as he rolled over and Jackson glanced at the door, which was open. Isaac had asked to spend the night with his alpha, wanting comfort after learning about Jackson. Derek had extended that invitation to Jackson, who simply stared at him. He was strong enough, now. He didn’t _want_ or _need_ comfort from anyone. Nothing bothered him, anymore.

So, why did his chest ache and his throat dry up? Why was he on the floor, trembling, thinking about the hug from a week ago? Why did he _want_ that? _Why_ did he want to stand in Derek’s room and look at him?

Turning his eyes from the doorway, Jackson looked at his hands again. He saw Stiles’ pocketknife and decided it was time to return it. He got to his feet, just as a door at the end opened. Peter was walking out, getting ready to start the day. As he rounded into the kitchen, Jackson was at the door, opening it. He was gone before Peter knew what he had seen.

Jackson knew he was fast, but he couldn’t be that fast. He didn’t question it. There was nothing to question. For the moment, it served his purpose. He ran down the stairs and out of the building, across the road and was in the center of town within seconds. He found the fastest route to Stiles’ house and took it, arriving as quickly as he left the loft. He wondered if that was part of not existing.

The front door was locked, but Jackson didn’t notice it. The deadbolt gave way to his strength and he walked upstairs, into Stiles’ bedroom. The human wasn’t in there and seemed apparent he hadn’t been there for at least the night. The father was still asleep and Jackson glanced at the clock beside Stiles’ bed. Six thirty-two in the morning. He had somewhere to hide, as Stiles would likely go to school.

Sitting in the corner behind the door, Jackson stared into the room. He would prefer to stand, but he didn’t feel like doing that. That wasn’t right. He never felt the need to stand or sit. He just stood, as he could jump into action quicker that way, should something threaten the alpha.

Closing his eyes, Jackson exhaled. He was finally starting to feel normal again. He opened his eyes and stared into the room, waiting for Stiles to return.

* * *

Around midday, Jackson heard and felt Derek calling to him. Without a scent to track, all Derek could do was call for him. He had left his cell phone behind in his parents’ house, figuring he would never need it again. The sheriff had woken an hour after he arrived, but had gone out the backdoor to his car. For the moment, he was safe. No one knew where he was and no one could force him to _feel_.

The hours melted away. Every hour, Derek would call for him and Jackson could feel the tug of the alpha. _Go to him,_ his mind would whisper for some reason. He could feel Derek trying to seek him out via their link, but he kept it locked. He wasn’t having anyone projecting their emotions and feelings onto him.

Night fell and Jackson had heard Derek running past the house, calling out to him. Again, that tug of the alpha happened and it was even stronger with Derek just outside. It was around eleven when Stiles finally came home, two hours after his father. He had asked his dad if he had seen Jackson.

“Jackson’s missing? I thought he was living with Derek. That’s what David told me, anyway. Have you checked in with him?”

“Derek was the one that told me he was missing. He thought Jackson might’ve gone to school, but I didn’t see him there. Scott checked, as well. We don’t know where he is.” Stiles was sad.

“Can’t they…smell him?”

Stiles sighed. “No, they can’t. I forgot to tell you, Jackson doesn’t have a scent they can track. If he wants to disappear, he can.”

The sheriff sat up. “And what if he _does_ want to disappear?”

“We can’t let that happen, Dad. Derek said that Jackson’s been more despondent than usual for the last week. He’s going through something really, _really_ bad.”

There was a short silence, before the sheriff whispered, “Kanima bad?”

“Somehow, this feels worse, even though there isn’t a body count. But there could be, if we don’t find him.” Stiles groaned. “I’m going to change and help search the woods.”

Jackson stood as Stiles ran up the stairs. The light flipped on and Jackson stepped out from behind the door. “Stiles,” he said.

Stiles shouted and spun around, holding the shirt he had removed as though it was a bat. He frowned, staring at the person behind him. “Jackson? What are you doing in my bedroom?”

“I came to return this,” Jackson said and held up the pocketknife. Stiles’ frown deepened and he took it.

“Derek is _sick_ with worry, Jackson,” Stiles said, pulling on his shirt and closing the door. “What are you doing here?”

“I want answers.”

Stiles’ eyebrows went up. “You… _want_ answers? You haven’t wanted anything in months.”

“That’s my point. I don’t want to want answers, but I want them. I want to know what’s happening to me.” Jackson’s hands became fists as he paced around the bed. “I don’t know what this is.”

“What?”

“This…this… _feeling_.” Jackson stopped in front of Stiles and stared down at him. “I don’t like it and I want it gone. I don’t want to feel. I’m useless to the alpha if I feel.”

“Okay, all right.” Stiles grabbed Jackson’s wrist and pulled him to the bed, forcing him to sit. “Tell me what it feels like.”

Jackson stared at Stiles. “It’s just questions. There’s hundreds of questions rushing around my head and I can’t answer any of them. I want them gone.”

Stiles stared at Jackson with hard eyes. “Sounds like you’re stressed,” he finally said with a shrug. “That’s part of being human. You’ve always got questions that don’t make sense, but you try to answer them, even if you don’t want that answer.”

Stress. Jackson looked down at his hands, trying to understand what that was. Why would anyone want to feel that? He’d had it for a week and he wanted it gone. Why would those questions matter, if he couldn’t answer them? Was that how people felt, all the time?

“Is that why you ran away from the loft?” Jackson nodded and closed his eyes when Stiles placed an arm around his shoulders. “What you’re feeling right now, that’s what Derek’s feeling.”

Jackson opened his eyes and stared at Stiles. “Why’s he feeling it? I’ve shut down our link.”

Stiles laughed and shook his head. “Derek has more stress than just you. He’s worried about you, the pack that’s here and a bunch of other stuff. Right now, he’s stressed because you just ran away. You didn’t tell anyone where you were going.”

“I didn’t know I had to.”

“Well, you have to tell _someone_ when you leave. They can’t track you by scent, so they won’t know if you’re okay. And you shut down your link to Derek, so he can’t feel if you’re still alive. I know, I know. You can’t die, but that doesn’t stop him from being scared that he’s going to find your body.” Stiles gave a slight smile.

Jackson tilted his head and frowned. “What does it matter if he finds my body?”

Stiles sighed quietly and dropped his arm. “You’re part of his pack, even if you don’t feel like you are. He cares about everyone in his pack and doesn’t want to find any of their bodies. But you were his first bite, so I think he cares a little more about you, especially since you’ve had problems in the past.”

They sat in silence for a while. Jackson frowned, thinking on Stiles’ words. He had used one, several times. ‘Care.’ Deaton had asked if he cared about Derek, but he didn’t know what it meant. He still wasn’t sure if he knew what it meant, but when used in that context, it made Jackson feel bad about himself. He felt as though he had done something wrong.

“Did you need help with anything else?” Stiles asked quietly and Jackson blinked at him.

“Yes. I had this strange feeling this morning, before I left. I can’t even begin to explain it. I felt angry and then I felt like doing that crying thing. And then I wanted to destroy or kill something.”

Stiles blinked and inched away from Jackson. “Okay… What were you thinking about when _that_ happened?”

“Isaac sharing a bed with Derek.” Jackson’s hands became fists again, but he forced them to relax.

Stiles stared at Jackson and then laughed. “Holy shit,” he said, a grin spreading across his face. “You’re jealous.”

Jackson frowned and tilted his head. “I’m what?”

“Jealous,” Stiles repeated, the grin still in place. “Which part of Isaac sharing a bed with Derek made you feel that?”

“All of it.”

“No, was it the part that Isaac was in bed with Derek or that Derek was in bed with Isaac?”

Jackson’s frown deepened, trying desperately to understand what Stiles was saying. “That’s the same thing.”

“No, it is—All right, let’s try it this way. Who was that feeling directed towards?” Stiles groaned as Jackson stared at him blankly. “Were you upset at Isaac being in Derek’s bed?”

“Yes.”

Stiles grinned. “All right,” he said, nodding his head, which slowed. The smile fell from his face. “That doesn’t get me anywhere. I still don’t know which one you were jealous of.” He sighed and rubbed his temples.

Jackson tilted his head, wondering if he had caused physical pain to Stiles with his questions. He had never meant to do that, but he didn’t know who else to turn to. Stiles seemed the only one that wanted to help him, aside from Derek, who just left him alone once he felt something.

“Okay,” Stiles said as he stood. “I propose this scenario to you.” Jackson frowned as there was a slight wave of fear coming from Stiles. “ _I’m_ in Derek’s bed.”

“Okay.”

“No, not ‘okay.’” Stiles deepened his voice, trying to mimic Jackson’s. “What do you feel, seeing me in Derek’s bed?”

Jackson frowned, staring at Stiles. His eyes flickered around the room, not seeing Derek’s bed anywhere. He didn’t understand the question. Stiles groaned again.

“Close your eyes.” Jackson did as he was told. “You’re in the loft, standing by your window.” Jackson frowned as he saw that. “You look at Derek’s room and you see me in his bed.”

Jackson snarled and opened his eyes, glaring at Stiles. It took a few seconds to realize he wasn’t in the loft and that his claws were digging in his thighs. He retracted them and let the tension dissolve from his shoulders. He looked up and Stiles smiled.

“You’re jealous of Isaac, because he was in Derek’s bed. Something I think you want for yourself.”

Jackson frowned, looking at the holes in his jeans. He could see the scars of his claws, wondering how his wolf had come out. Did he feel it that badly, that he would potentially attack someone he had to protect?

“It’s all right, Jackson. Jealousy brings out the wolf in all of us.” Stiles placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “I’m gonna take you back to the loft.”

“Okay.”

“Going to Derek’s loft, Dad,” Stiles said as he and Jackson went downstairs. The sheriff sat up, staring at Jackson. “He was in my bedroom. Guess he wins the hide-and-seek championship, huh?”

In Stiles’ jeep, Jackson stared ahead. He needed to be emotionless for the torrent of hell he was going to feel from Derek. He had thought about keeping his side of the link shut down, but Stiles seemed to think it was important for him to open it.

Stiles pulled out and dialed Derek on his phone. “I found him,” he said and Jackson heard a rush of air, deaf to Stiles’ ears. “He was in my bedroom.”

“What the hell was he doing there?”

“He had questions about what he was feeling,” Stiles explained as they drove down the street. He glanced at Jackson, who looked back at him. Stiles raised his eyebrows and Jackson frowned. Stiles rolled his eyes. “He left because he felt jealous.”

“Out,” Derek snapped at the others as there was laughter. “He felt jealousy?”

“Oh, _big time_ ,” Stiles said with a grin. “Pretty sure he was about to kill me because of a made-up scenario.”

“I don’t care about that. What caused the jealousy?”

Stiles glanced at Jackson, the grin still in place. “Isaac,” he said vaguely. He shuddered as Derek growled.

“He’s never been jealous of Isaac before.”

“I agree,” Stiles said with a lilt still in his voice. “But this is the first time he’s seen Isaac share your bed.” There was a long silence, to the point that Stiles made sure no one had hung up. “Everything okay over there, Mister Wolf?”

“Just get him home.” Derek hung up.

“Yeah, bye to you, too! I’ll see you in a few minutes,” Stiles yelled at his phone, shaking his head. “Ass.” He sighed and glanced at Jackson. “Have you opened your link to him?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Every time I do, I feel. I don’t like feeling.”

Stiles sighed as he stopped at a red light. “Jackson, you’re feeling on your own, now. Derek was asleep when you felt the jealousy. You felt that shock and pain last week, when Peter told you that you…” He trailed off and shook his head.

Jackson stared out the windshield, feeling Derek on the other side of the link. He was waiting for Jackson to open it and he didn’t want to. There it was again. There was a want. He didn’t want to feel jealous of people in Derek’s bed. He didn’t want to feel anything. He didn’t want Derek in his head, spreading the emotions and feelings. All he wanted was to forget he ever knew what they felt like.

“Do it,” Stiles ordered and Jackson closed his eyes, opening the highway to Derek.

Wincing, Jackson placed a hand over his neck as it practically buzzed, shooting up and down his spine. He could feel the anger, fear, pain, worry that Derek was. But there was something else. Something that was soothing all of it and it wasn’t warmth or comfort. It was something he hadn’t felt from Derek before.

Glancing at Jackson, Stiles smiled sympathetically. “You kinda deserve that for shutting it down for so long.”

“Okay.”

Stiles slapped Jackson’s knee. “Stop that. If we say something, don’t just say, ‘okay,’ like you don’t feel it.”

“Okay.” Stiles slapped him again. “Why do you keep touching my knee?”

“I’m actually hitting you…” Stiles rolled his eyes. “I’m an idiot. Do you feel that?”

“No.”

“Look out your window,” Stiles said and Jackson turned his head, staring out the passenger window. “Feel that?”

“What?” He frowned, trying to feel something.

“Look,” Stiles said, holding a chunk of Jackson’s hair. “I think we need to do some tests, _without_ Derek knowing. Are you all right with that?”

Jackson frowned, trying to think of an answer. Derek was the alpha. He didn’t want Jackson doing tests on himself, but he still did it, just to make sure he was useful. If Derek found out about it, he would blame Stiles. He may even threaten Stiles, which couldn’t happen. He couldn’t stand up to the alpha… Could he?

“Okay.”

Stiles sighed and shook his head. “Good enough, I guess.”

* * *

Derek stood at the window, looking down to the street. He saw Stiles pull up and Jackson slip out. Stiles said his goodbyes and Jackson walked into the building. Turning from the window, Derek stared at the door. He had sent the pack off to the woods. He needed time alone with Jackson to understand what was happening.

Spending an entire day, trying to search for a scent that didn’t exist, hadn’t been fun. He could have been looking into the pack, trying to discover why they were really in town. Instead, he had spent the day trying to find someone who couldn’t be found and didn’t want to be found.

Derek would never admit it, but fear had gripped his heart when he couldn’t feel Jackson. Not knowing where he was or who he was with… Derek didn’t want to think about it again. Scenarios had played through his mind for the last eighteen hours. Going through the woods and finding Jackson’s body there. Finding him in a dumpster. Having the pack dump him at the door to the loft.

He had woken to Peter crying out in surprise. Dislodging Isaac’s long limbs from him, he went into the living space. Jackson wasn’t at his window and that’s when Peter said that Jackson had left. He snapped his fingers, saying Jackson was gone like that.

However, as Jackson trudged up the stairs, Derek wondered if his uncle had seen Jackson move that fast. He had tried calling his cell phone, only to discover it was turned off. He let Jackson have a few hours, not wanting to crowd him, especially after what happened the previous week. He couldn’t believe Jackson could become more despondent, but he had found a way. He barely even muttered an ‘Okay,’ deciding that nodding or shaking his head was good enough.

Jackson was the door. There was an unneeded deep breath, before he opened the door and entered the loft. Derek stared at him and he stared right back. Stiles had said that he felt jealousy, but Jackson didn’t smell like it. There was no emotion in him, which reminded Derek too much of the old Jackson. Trying to use something else to hide his true emotions, even around werewolves.

“Where were you for the entire day?”

“In Stiles’ bedroom.”

“Why?” Jackson frowned and tilted his head. Derek felt his anger spike. “Don’t give me that, Jackson. Tell me why you were in his bedroom.”

“I wanted answers.”

Derek felt some of the anger disappear. That _had_ to be a good sign. Jackson never wanted answers before and it fell to Derek to find someone who knew something. Jackson actually seeking answers on his own was good, regardless of how he went about it. Still, Derek didn’t want Jackson thinking he could do whatever he wanted.

“And what questions did you have that meant you couldn’t come to me?” Derek asked. “Hmm? What could Stilinski offer you that I couldn’t?”

Jackson’s heart started beating and the life returned to his eyes. “Less anger for one thing!” he shouted and a glare settled on his face.

“Don’t you yell at me, pup,” Derek snapped and narrowed his eyes. Jackson stood his ground. That was the Jackson he missed: the defiant little bastard. He squashed down his anger and Jackson relaxed again. He really should figure out how his emotions keep spilling over to him. “Did he give you the answers you wanted?”

“Yes.”

“And you couldn’t think to tell Peter that you were going out? You didn’t think to tell _someone_ where you were going?”

“I didn’t know I had to!” Jackson’s trembling hands became fists as he glared at Derek. “You forget that there’s a lot I don’t know, anymore. Simple things that seem obvious to you, aren’t to me. I haven’t been allowed to leave this shithole in _weeks_!”

Derek’s eyes widened for a moment, before he snarled. “Please, tell me how you really feel about your home!”

Jackson stepped closer and the smell of the sadness and anger battling within him became stronger. “I’m only here because I didn’t realize my mother was coming into the kitchen! If I had just taken the knives upstairs, I wouldn’t be here, dealing with your bullshit.”

Derek advanced on Jackson, surprised that he stayed where he was. He would never admit aloud that he missed arguing with Jackson. He missed the way Jackson would try to rile him up, all the taunts and jabs. Those first few days were the only reason Derek was helping him.

“Just remember that I could’ve turned you out, Jackson. The moment you lost your scent, I could’ve kicked you out of the pack. But I didn’t! Now, I have to deal with your non-existent ass acting like a child!”

Derek’s eyes widened when he realized what he said. Jackson grew still before him, eyes staring at his throat. His emotions constantly battled, sorrow-anger-sorrow-rage-sorrow. It continued for a short while, until Derek felt a cold rage come through the link.

Jackson slowly raised his eyes. “Then do it,” he said quietly, the blue eyes sparkling. “Cast me from the pack you borne me to! I’ll be one less problem for you to worry about.”

“Jesus Christ, Jackson,” Derek said as he straightened. “You’re not a problem. No one in my pack is ever a ‘problem.’”

“Then stop treating me like one,” Jackson said, his voice eerily calm. “Don’t freak out because I left.” He broke the leg off the coffee table and stabbed it into his chest. “In case you forgot, I can’t fucking die!”

Derek flinched and gritted his teeth at that show of weakness. He closed his eyes, letting the alpha come out. He ripped the leg from Jackson’s chest and wrapped a hand around his throat, needing more effort than he thought to pin Jackson to the door.

Jackson glared back at him, his hand around Derek’s throat. “Unlike you, I don’t need to breathe.”

Derek’s eyes became red and Jackson removed his hand, letting the air back into Derek’s lungs. He couldn’t believe how strong that grip was. “I am your alpha,” he stated, his claws digging into the pale flesh of Jackson’s throat.

Jackson’s eyes sparkled blue and he shoved Derek away. Derek groaned as his back met the wall he’d just replaced. He looked across the room, his eyes wide. Jackson couldn’t be that strong. He was a beta and he was barely that. How could he throw his alpha across the room, like he was a pair of jeans?

The cuts from his claws on Jackson’s throat healed and scarred. “You are _not_ my alpha,” he said.

Derek glared at him, trying to cover the pain he felt. Hearing Jackson Whittemore, of all people, say he wasn’t his alpha stung. The guy that desperately needed an alpha in his life was denying him. That cut a lot deeper than he wanted it to, but he knew Jackson felt it. The blue died from his eyes, as did the cold rage that had gripped him as he stared at Derek.

“I didn’t…I didn’t mean that.”

He was completely sincere. Derek stood and approached Jackson slowly, not wanting to frighten him. That was a lesson for another day. “I know,” he said. “That’s what rage does, though. If you let it run unchecked, you say things just to hurt others. Like what I said about you being non-existent. I didn’t mean that.”

Jackson trembled as he stood before Derek, a resounding sadness taking over him. He hung his head and Derek placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder, grateful he couldn’t see those scars on his throat. It was just one more thing on his list of atonements for Jackson.

Derek gave the shoulder a squeeze and turned from Jackson, looking at the busted coffee table. “Jackson,” he said and looked over his shoulder.

“Yes?”

“Stop breaking my shit.”

“Okay.”

Derek watched as Jackson went back to the window, not bothering to shower. He shook his head, knowing he had to discuss the jealousy thing, as well. With a sigh, Derek stood beside Jackson and looked out the window. He knew he should focus on the pack, but he didn’t need Jackson’s jealousy potentially harming a member of his own pack.

“Why are you jealous of Isaac?”

“I’m not.”

“Don’t start lying now,” Derek warned.

Jackson frowned and looked at Derek. “I’m not jealous of Isaac.”

“Unless he’s in my bed?”

“Yes.”

Derek wouldn’t lie, he did enjoy the honesty. He did prefer Jackson trying to lie, but the honesty was a nice change. For once. He placed a hand on Jackson’s back, not feeling as shift in his position. He idly stroked his neck, enjoying the silky skin. He wanted to ask questions, but somehow found himself scared of the answers he’d get from honest Jackson.

“Did you want to join me in my bed?”

“Yes.”

Even though the word was said without emotion, Derek fought to keep his heartrate normal. He didn’t need Jackson hearing it and then asking his own questions. It did send a spark of excitement through him, which he quickly shoved down, especially as Jackson’s head turned to him. He frowned, clearly trying to understand what he just felt and what it meant.

Keeping his eyes steady, Derek continued to stare out the window. Jackson must have thought he wasn’t going to get any answers and straightened his head. Derek lowered his eyes, glancing over his shoulder at the coffee table. Peter’s list was still on it.

“Will you join me in my bed?”

“No.”

Derek closed his eyes. He was almost certain that was Jackson’s favorite word. Inhaling deeply, he opened his eyes and ignored the painful thumping in his chest. He was old enough to handle rejection and he was mature enough not to demand a reason. So he liked to believe.

“Why not?”

Jackson turned his head and frowned at Derek. “I don’t sleep.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it. If you did, drop a kudos or a comment.  
> Now, onto a word from our sponsors:
> 
> Aria_Slytherin12thGen: Hello and welcome! Thanks for the comment. Yes, I completely agree. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and hope to hear for ya again.
> 
> Reddy_no_1: Thank you so much for that comment! I'm glad you enjoyed it and yes...I wanted Jackson to fight Peter as well, but the story keeps turning from that. I don't think Derek wants to bury another member of his family. But with that said, I think you'll enjoy the next chapter. I hope to hear you again. =3
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	6. Pride

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Pride

_Jealousy._

The word continued to move through Jackson’s mind. How could he feel something he didn’t know about? No. _I’ve felt it before,_ he realized. He hadn’t known what it was back then, either. It was the same feeling he got when Stiles fixed his shirt at the hospital. That had come from Derek, though.

Movement got his attention across the street. He saw the beta called Mike standing there, watching the loft. Jackson stared at him, not surprised when Derek was on his left side. In another minute, Peter was standing by his right as the three of them gazed down at the beta. Mike shifted uncomfortably, definitely feeling their eyes and not liking it.

Mike lasted a few minutes, before he walked up the street and Derek sighed. He looked at Jackson, who continued to stare out the window. He was turned and his eyes focused on Derek, who was moving the ruined shirt to the side, looking at the scar on his chest from the table leg. Jackson frowned as he felt Derek’s fingers lightly brush over his skin.

His neck tingled and Jackson’s frown deepened further when he shuddered at the sensation. He had never felt that before, nor had he reacted that way to the tingle. Derek snatched his hand away and stepped around Jackson, going into the kitchen. He got the coffee going and glanced back.

“Go shower.”

“Okay.”

Jackson went through to Derek’s room, removing his shirt. He could feel Peter’s eyes on him, staring at the scars on his back. Once the water started, Peter asked Derek about the scars remaining and Derek stayed silent on the subject. Jackson frowned as he felt a stab of pain in chest, as though he could feel a knife in there.

Washing away the blood, Jackson stood under the spray of the shower. He looked at his hand, the one he used to hurt himself. Derek had flinched when he saw the leg pierce his chest. Pain and fear had washed over him, for only a brief second, before anger took its place. Why?

Derek wasn’t the one that was stabbed, but he acted as though he had been. He acted as though that chair leg was going into his chest. Jackson realized, when he thought about every time he proved to Derek that he couldn’t feel anything, he always looked as though it was happening to him. He didn’t like seeing Jackson make a statement about his lack of emotions and feelings.

A phone rang and Jackson came out of his thoughts, staring at the tiles of the shower. He changed his hands and gazed at the scar on the palm of his left hand. He had told Derek why he kept the scars. It was his reminder that he wasn’t pack and a better reminder that he couldn’t die.

“I need you to watch the other pack,” Derek whispered to Peter and Jackson tilted his head.

“Why don’t you? I can look after Jackson.”

“Because I know you’ll take him somewhere, to prove a point.”

There was the anger. Derek was definitely angry with Peter about something. The knives Peter had used on him were thrown out, as Derek didn’t want them in the house. The anger felt the same when Derek thought about Jackson leaving the loft, as well. It wasn’t anger, it was mistrust.

Jackson turned off the shower and stepped out. He stood, staring at the towel for a long while. Stiles had wanted to perform some tests on him. He wanted to know what made Jackson tick and if there was a limit to his regeneration. Jackson wanted to know the answers to that, as well. Derek might not want to know the answer, but he needed to know it.

Derek entered his room, removing his pajama pants, knowing there would be no prying eyes. Once he was dressed, he turned to the bathroom door and frowned, seeing Jackson in there, still staring at the towel.

“Jackson?” he called and Jackson’s head turned to him. “What are you doing?”

“I don’t know. There’s questions and words in here.” Jackson pointed to his head.

“Quit fucking around and get dressed before the others wake up,” Derek said, leaving his bedroom.

Jackson went into the bedroom and opened the suitcase, not understanding why it was in there. It had been fine in the living room, but he pulled on jeans and a shirt, standing in front of the window again. He heard Peter eat a bowl of cereal, before he dashed out the door to track down the pack. Minutes after he left, Derek was knocking on doors, waking up his pack.

Scott and Stiles were making their way towards the loft, as well. They paused briefly to ask Peter where he was going. In a matter of minutes, they were coming up in the elevator. Scott helped himself to a bowl of cereal, while Stiles sat down with a piece of toast.

“Can I borrow Jackson during your training?” Stiles asked suddenly and silence fell over the loft. “What?” he asked as the others stared at him.

“Why?” Derek raised an eyebrow.

“I’unno,” Stiles hummed. “He’s not gonna be doing anything.”

Derek glared at Stiles. “That’s because Scott will be going with them for training. I’m staying here with Jackson.”

“No!”

Even Jackson turned to frown at Stiles. It left his face as Derek looked at him sharply, clearly expecting some reason from both of them. Stiles wanted to conduct tests, but he was going about it the wrong way. Jackson might not know much about Derek, but he knew enough to know that Derek wasn’t about to let a non-existent powerhouse walk out the door without him.

Stiles calmed his heart and sat back in the chair. “Look, let me take him out. The only time he’s gotten out in the last few weeks, was when he snuck out to my place.”

Derek shrugged. “Then I’ll come with you,” he said.

“No!” Stiles jumped to his feet and paced around the table, the werewolves staring at him. “Don’t you have a second pack to worry about?”

“I’ve got Peter on that,” Derek said, following Stiles with his eyes. “What aren’t you telling me, Stilinski?” His eyes snapped to Jackson and jealousy washed over him.

Jackson’s eyes widened, giving into the anger. “Fuck you, Derek,” he snapped and approached the table, slamming his hands on the wood and leaning in to glare at Derek. “Even if I was sleeping with him, it’s _none_ of your business.”

Erica’s eyes widened. “Wow. Just what I wanted to hear while eating breakfast.” She shook her head, moving the chair back, taking her bowl of cereal with her.

Derek copied Jackson’s stance, glaring into his eyes. “I have _every_ right to know who my pack sleeps with.”

“God, just fuck already,” Boyd muttered into his coffee. He raised his eyes when Jackson and Derek glared at him. “I wasn’t the only one thinking it,” he said defensively.

Derek’s eyes flashed red and Boyd lowered his head. “I’ll deal with you later,” he promised and turned his eyes back to Jackson. “That’s why you went to him, when you were—?”

“ _That’s_ my business,” Jackson snarled. “What I do in my time and _who_ I do is my business.”

“Guys, y’know, I’m standing right—”

“Shut up, Stilinski,” Derek and Jackson growled at him.

Scott frowned and stared at Jackson. “Why are you jealous?” he asked, wrinkling his nose. His eyes widened when Jackson glared at him. “Trust me, that anger is pretty potent, but you’re definitely jealous.”

“I’m not jealous,” Jackson said smugly, turning his eyes to Derek. Before he could say anything, the emotions and feelings left. He straightened and went back to his window, staring out it.

“Take him and get out,” Derek muttered to Stiles, going to his bedroom.

Stiles raised an eyebrow, but shrugged and grabbed Jackson’s arm, pulling him over to the loft door. Jackson followed behind Stiles as they went downstairs. He climbed into the jeep, watching as the town moved by. They went into the forest and Jackson tilted his head.

After stopping the car, Stiles killed the engine and grinned at Jackson. “You ready for some tests?” he asked, patting his backpack.

“Okay.”

Stiles rolled his eyes. “Okay, let’s do this.” Jackson nodded and slipped out of the vehicle, walking a pace behind the human. “So…if you weren’t jealous, does that mean Derek was?”

“Yes.”

“Huh.”

The rest of the walk was done in silence. By the time they reached some arbitrary spot in the forest, Stiles was panting and wiping sweat off his face with the bottom of his shirt. He dropped the backpack, a series of metallic clinks sounding. With a deep breath, Stiles faced Jackson, showing a nine millimeter pistol, likely swiped from his father’s collection.

“Turn around.”

Jackson did as he was told. He heard the hammer pull back and the safety turn off. The bang was deafening, birds taking flight. Jackson looked down and saw blood on the front of his shirt. Derek was going to be angry with him for that. He hated the smell of blood.

“Anything?”

“No.”

“All right, this one you need to heal fully. There can’t be a scar or Derek will tear me apart.”

“Okay.”

The gun was fired again and Jackson looked down at his chest, expecting to find more blood. He frowned when it dropped off his forehead, touching the area. He felt the scar and it healed over, replacing it with the smooth, fresh skin of his youth.

“Anything?”

“No.”

“Well, that’s the gun done. Raise your arms.”

Jackson did so, hearing Stiles moving around behind him. Suddenly, he was charging at him and screaming wildly. It stopped as suddenly as it happened and he looked over his shoulder, wanting to see if Stiles was all right. He didn’t know why the scream was necessary, not thinking that Stiles needed to psych himself up to attack a defenseless person.

“Anything?”

Jackson frowned and looked at his front. He saw a baseball bat, the end filled with nails, stuck to his ribs. “No.”

“There has to be a weakness somewhere,” Stiles muttered, opening his backpack. There was a strange zapping sound. “Anything?”

“No.”

“Anything?” Stiles asked, firing an arrow into Jackson’s lower back.

“No.”

“Anything?” he asked, an ax buried in Jackson’s shoulder.

“No.”

Stiles huffed and Jackson heard a liquid in a metal can sloshing around. There was a strike of a match and he saw the flames. “Anything?” Stiles demanded.

“No.”

Shaking his head, Stiles used the small extinguisher from his backpack on the fire. Jackson’s clothing was completely ruined, but he knew that would happen. “Be sure to heal the burns completely. If Derek knew I set fire to you…he’d probably do the same to me.” He shuddered.

The burns healed over, leaving behind flawless skin. “Is there anything else?”

“Not that I can think of. I thought for certain the fire would work.” Stiles dropped to the ground.

Jackson removed the burnt baseball bat from his side. He snapped off the barb of the arrow and pulled it out of his body. He stared ahead, ignoring the way Stiles muttered to himself, something about trying acid. Jackson’s eyes dropped to his burned clothing that was barely staying on him.

“I think Derek will notice something is wrong if I return like this,” Jackson said.

“No kidding,” Stiles mumbled. “The river is just behind me. Wash off in there.”

Jackson removed the tattered rags and walked to the river. He washed himself as well as he could with silt, hoping it would cover the smell of his blood. However, he saw that his blood was still dripping into the water and he was certain he had removed everything Stiles gave him.

“I’m still bleeding,” Jackson said and heard Stiles standing, rushing to him. His excitement was palpable, thinking something had worked.

Stiles stared at Jackson, wanting to know what would cause continuous bleeding. He sighed when his eyes landed on Jackson’s shoulder. “You still have the ax in your shoulder.”

“Okay.”

Jackson reached over and ripped the ax from his shoulder, tossing it at Stiles’ feet. After that, the blood stopped flowing. He laid down in the river, staring up at the bright sky, wriggling around to remove the scent of blood as much as possible. Once he was certain he didn’t reek of blood, he rinsed the silt off and stepped out of the river.

“What about the other scars?” Stiles asked, staring at the scar on Jackson’s abdomen from the arrow.

“Derek doesn’t see me naked.”

Stiles nodded, his eyes raising to the jagged scar on the chest. “Ouch. How’d you get that one?”

“I stabbed myself with a broken table leg,” Jackson answered and Stiles’ eyes widened.

“Why?”

“To prove a point.”

Stiles raised an eyebrow, but shook his head. “Okay. I could ask, but I get the feeling I wouldn’t understand it. You’re way more messed up than before. Come on. I brought some clothes for you to wear.”

Jackson followed Stiles back to the backpack. A pair of basketball shorts and jersey was thrown at him. Catching them, Jackson pulled them on and followed Stiles again. He frowned as Stiles wasn’t going back to the car. He wondered, for a moment, if Stiles had another test to conduct.

As they walked, Jackson realized that Stiles was lost. Tilting his head, he tapped the human on the shoulder and took him back to the car. In the far distance, he could hear the pack with Scott. It sounded like Erica was beating the ever loving crap out of Isaac, who was groaning with pain.

“She’s done the same move, eight times, Lahey,” Derek snapped and Jackson tilted his head.

“What is it?” Stiles asked, following Jackson’s eyes.

“Derek decided to take over the training,” Jackson said and went to the passenger side.

Stiles unlocked the car. “Do you miss training with them?”

Jackson sat in the seat, staring out the windshield. He had never asked that question. He wasn’t sure if anyone asked him that before now. For some reason, part of him felt like saying, ‘yes. I miss it,’ but another part was saying, ‘I don’t know.’ Jackson didn’t know how to answer it. Did he miss it? There was only one answer that would satisfy everyone.

“No.”

Stiles stared at Jackson with hard eyes. “Right,” he drawled and started the engine. “Where are they?”

Jackson pointed north-east and Stiles nodded. He pulled out and entered through another entrance, constantly asking where the others were. Jackson kept pointing, not liking the way Stiles spoke, as though he didn’t believe him. He had been honest…hadn’t he?

Soon enough, they found the pack and Stiles turned off the engine, jumping out. “Hello, party wolves!”

Derek looked over his shoulder, having pinned Boyd to the ground, knee between his shoulder and twisting the young wolf’s arm up. “What are you doing here?” he demanded, his eyes flicking to Jackson.

“We weren’t that far from you,” Stiles said easily, raising his hands. “Jackson heard the training and I thought I’d drop by, see if he wanted to join in.”

“Are you insane, man?” Boyd panted from beneath Derek. “We can’t train with him.”

Derek growled and twisted the arm more. “Get out of the car, Jackson,” he ordered.

Jackson slipped out, closing the door. He stood beside Stiles and Derek released Boyd’s arm, circling Jackson. He felt Stiles grow still and heard his heart thumping wildly in his chest. Stiles was the only way Derek could get any answers.

“Take off your shirt, Jackson,” Derek said as he stood in front of him. Erica laughed and Isaac let out a wolf whistle. They stopped the moment Derek glared at them.

Jackson glanced at Stiles, practically feeling his fear. “No.”

“Take it off or I’ll rip it off.”

Jackson felt the suppressed anger slip through the link and narrowed his eyes. “Try it,” he challenged.

The pack and Scott shifted nervously. Stiles stared at Jackson. “You don’t have to get your ass kicked to protect me, man. What’s the worst he could do? Yell some more?”

“Stand back, Stiles,” Jackson said, not taking his eyes off Derek. “This is a matter of principle.”

“Ten bucks on Jackson,” Erica whispered to Boyd and Isaac.

“I’ll take that,” Boyd said, a grin in his voice. “You know Jackson would never hurt Derek.”

“You don’t want to do this, pup,” Derek said as he backed into the center of the wolves, Jackson walking with him.

Jackson gave Derek a smile, extremely similar to the one Derek gave him the night of the bite. “Try me.”

“Can I change my bet?” Boyd asked and Erica scoffed.

Silence fell around them. Seven stood, waiting, six hearts beating. The moment the seventh heart started beating, alpha and beta charged at the other. Their connection let off a shockwave, both trying to move an immovable force. Eyes normal, for the moment as they stared at the other, trying to understand how they were struggling.

The more they tried to force the other to move, the harder it became. For some time, they stood, hands on the other’s shoulders, trying to get some leverage. Claws were grown as surprise turned to frustration and eventually anger. Derek winced as Jackson’s claws dug into the flesh of his shoulders.

Both wolves were fighting to get out. The alpha to dominate and show its pup who it belonged to. The beta to protect a friend. If the alpha was angry, it should be with him. Jackson was the one that had agreed to the tests. He was the one that wanted answers, just as badly as Stiles did.

Derek twisted his arms, applying pressure to Jackson’s elbows. When he heard the crunch of them dislocating, he pushed them out of the way. Jackson might not feel pain, but his grip loosened without joints holding everything together. His knee met Jackson’s abdomen and there wasn’t a gasp or groan.

Gripping the jersey, Derek growled as his elbow was dislocated. Jackson tilted his head, his fist splitting Derek’s lip for a moment. It healed over, but that didn’t matter. The beta had spilled the first blood, the blood of the alpha. Boyd cursed and paid Erica the money, still watching as Derek and Jackson circled each other, claws out, but eyes still human.

Derek went to slice the jersey from Jackson, but he caught the wrist. As he went for the punch, Derek caught his wrist and they stared. Jackson knew he shouldn’t be any kind of match to Derek. The alpha should have wiped the floor with him instantly. If he could still feel pain, Jackson had no doubt that would’ve been the case.

They tried to move closer, the other stopping them. Derek glared and Jackson felt his eyes change. Using Derek’s arms to steady him, Jackson climbed up and wrapped a leg around Derek’s neck, bringing him down to the ground. They landed with a thud.

Just when Jackson thought he could force Derek into submission, his legs were parted and Derek stood up, glaring down at him. The alpha had frightened the wolf back into submission and Jackson gritted his teeth, feeling something else spark up inside of him.

“You cheating bastard,” he snapped, jumping to his feet and shoving Derek back. “The only way you can win is by scaring my wolf? Take some pride in yourself!”

“Like you are?” Derek asked. “Pride is accepting defeat, after _all_ options have been exhausted. My last option was to remind your wolf who you belonged to.”

“I’m not your _pup_ ,” Jackson spat, feeling the need to curl up somewhere and lick his non-existent wounds.

“Well,” Erica said with a smile. “Look who learned ego. He almost sounds like himself.”

Derek raised an eyebrow, gazing at Erica. “He did, didn’t he?” He looked at Jackson with a smirk, the glare deepening. “You lost. Take off the jersey.”

Jackson growled, but did as he was told, throwing it at Derek. “What, you haven’t seen me naked enough?”

Erica snickered, which was cut short when she saw the scars on Jackson’s torso. “Oh…Jackson.”

Derek’s eyes glowed red and snapped to Stiles. Jackson’s hand shot out and grabbed Derek’s throat, bringing the alpha closer to his face. “Me,” he snarled. “ _I_ wanted this.”

“Jesus, Stiles. What did you do?” Scott looked at the scars on Jackson’s back. “Is that…” He narrowed his eyes. “Is that a _bullet_ scar?” He spun around, staring at Stiles, shock rolling off him. “You literally _shot_ him?”

Derek’s growl vibrated down Jackson’s arm. Jackson’s eyes widened and he pushed away from Derek, standing in front of Stiles. “If _anyone_ ,” he started, his eyes boring into Derek’s, “wants a piece of him, they have to go through me.”

“Why?” Isaac asked, staring at the ragged scar on Jackson’s chest.

“Because I can’t die!” Jackson shouted, feeling tears prick his eyes. “And I want to know why!”

Erica bit her lip and glanced at Derek. “We’re trying to find out why, Jackson,” she said quietly, watching his trembling form.

“I told Stiles to kill me,” Jackson said, fighting to keep the tears where they were. He wasn’t going to cry in front of the entire pack. He wasn’t going to cry in front of the alpha. “I begged him. I needed to know if I could _feel_ anything. So if you want to rip anyone apart, it should be _me_. I won’t feel it, anyway.”

Derek straightened. “Scott, take the pack home,” he said without taking his eyes from Jackson. “Stilinski, stay where you are. We need to talk. Jackson, you go home, too.”

“No.”

Isaac stopped, holding his hand out to Jackson. “Let’s go home.”

Jackson glanced at Isaac’s hand for a moment, but his eyes returned to Derek. “No. The human must be protected at all costs.”

Isaac frowned, staring at Jackson. “Is that…loyalty?” he asked, eyes flicking to Derek.

Jackson didn’t know to how describe it, but he knew that Stiles was in trouble. It wasn’t his fault that he was curious. Jackson did want answers and Stiles was the only one willing to help him get them. He didn’t know that he wouldn’t heal until after the weapon was out of his body. He didn’t know that blood loss was another method of death they could scratch off the list. All Jackson knew and felt was that he couldn’t leave Stiles alone. He couldn’t let him face Derek’s anger alone.

In the blink of an eye, Derek was in front of him and Jackson tensed. He forgot how fast Derek was. He had forgotten how powerful Derek was. He had forgotten how dangerous Derek was. Most of all, he had forgotten that Derek was the alpha.

Jackson’s shoulders jerked as Derek’s hand rested on his neck. The heat pooled there and spread through him. Eyes widening, Jackson stared at Derek. He could feel that. He could feel the rough skin on him, could feel the way it made him want to shiver and step closer.

“He felt that,” Stiles whispered, eyes as wide as Jackson’s. “He feels _you_.”

“Then feel that I won’t hurt him,” Derek stated, using his leverage on Jackson’s neck to push him at Isaac. “Get him home.”

Jackson allowed himself to be pulled away by Isaac. He looked back at Derek, wanting to feel that warmth again. He couldn’t feel Isaac’s hands on his arm, dragging him through the forest. He knew Isaac couldn’t budge him, should he decide to stay where he was or should he want to do what he really wanted – run back to Derek.

* * *

Once Isaac and Jackson were out of hearing, Derek turned his eyes to Stiles. His jaw clenched, the anger rushing back to him. Seeing part of a new scar on Jackson’s shoulder shouldn’t have enraged him as much as it did, but he would be damned if that pup would be marred again.

“What the fuck—?”

“You weren’t doing anything about it,” Stiles muttered and held his hands up when Derek growled. “He has a right to know if he can die.”

“By _killing_ him?” Derek demanded as he paced in front of Stiles, trying to calm his nerves. That bullet scar hadn’t been the problem. The scar on the shoulder was wide. Then the scars on his ribs, which looked like a dozen nails had embedded in the flesh worried Derek more. “And what did you learn?”

“He can’t die. I did several experiments on him and he healed absolutely everything. Even a bullet through the brain.” Stiles was now pacing with Derek, ignoring the glare sent at him. “I don’t understand it. He feels nothing, except what comes from you.”

Derek curled his lip. “I’m his alpha,” he stated.

Stiles stopped his pacing and stared at Derek. “No, you’re not.” He jumped back when Derek growled in warning.

Derek would be damned if he was going to listen to Stiles denounce his alpha status over Jackson. He had bitten that frightened boy. He had dumped, what he thought at the time, was his dead body into the river. Jackson would carry the scent of Derek fucking Hale on him, when he became hum–werewolf again. No one would deny his alpha status over Jackson ever again.

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Stiles rushed on. “To Jackson, you’re not _his_ alpha. You’re simply _the_ alpha. Deaton said he’s searching for his place in the world.”

Derek had stopped listening to Stiles. There was movement in the forest, there was a feeling pressing down on his shoulders. Someone was hunting. His heart thudded against his ribs when he realized that Isaac and Jackson were still in the forest. They had almost reached the edge, but they were still far enough inside to be murdered without anyone seeing.

Throwing Stiles at his jeep, Derek ran off. “Get back to the loft,” he shouted over his shoulder.

Fear and anger thrilled through Derek, thinking on Isaac and Jackson. He couldn’t lose _two_ betas in one go. He had barely learned how to handle non-existent Jackson. He was getting closer to them; they had stopped walking. They would have sensed the hunt, as well.

The stench of blood hit him and Derek pushed his legs to move faster. Some of the blood was definitely Jackson’s, but that wasn’t surprising. Not feeling pain was probably a good thing for Jackson, giving him the chance to focus on one thing at a time.

He found them. Jackson was kneeling over Isaac and two bodies of betas were between Derek and his boys. Looking at them, Derek frowned. Both had their throats open and their hearts had been ripped out, placed in their mouths. It almost seemed like a message and Derek refused to believe Isaac could do something like that. He might have been the best when it came to control, but being cruel was where Jackson truly shone.

Isaac gasped and sat up. “What happened?” he demanded, jumping to his feet. Derek saw a bite mark on Jackson’s arm heal. “Where are they?”

Derek strode up to Isaac and grabbed his face, looking him over. He saw a rip on his shirt and figured one of the betas got lucky, but that didn’t explain why Jackson would need to bleed on him. Jackson stood and started walking off. Derek grabbed his shoulder and stared at the four scars along Jackson’s back.

“What happened?” Derek asked.

“I eliminated part of the threat.”

Derek frowned and looked around. His eyes widened when he saw a headless body in a tree, hanging from a branch shoved through the chest. Isaac also noticed and he glanced at Jackson, then he noticed the two dead betas behind Derek.

Isaac frowned. “Why save me?”

“You’re a beta and must be protected.”

“What happened to you?” Derek asked, moving the shirt aside and looking at the smooth skin.

“One of the alphas poisoned me,” Isaac said and glanced at Jackson.

“Did you kill an alpha?” Derek asked, turning Jackson around.

Stiles pulled up behind them and got out. He winced at the two bodies he saw. “What happened?”

“Did you kill an alpha, Jackson?” Derek demanded.

“Yes.”

Derek stared at Jackson and stepped back from him. Isaac and Stiles were a complete mass of confusion, their scents almost overpowering the blood in the area. No one knew what that meant and Derek honestly never thought that Jackson was strong enough to take out an alpha.

“I didn’t become one, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Jackson said.

Stiles was the first to ask the obvious. “How?! You killed one!”

“I didn’t want it and I don’t need it,” Jackson said with a shrug and a smirk. “Besides,” he added with a glare at the body in the tree. Stiles followed his gaze and squeaked. “He started it.”

Derek stared at Jackson, Isaac and Stiles on his side, also staring after him. That wasn’t right. Jackson denied more power? He killed an alpha and didn’t take the power that came from it? Was that even possible? Was it possible to kill an alpha and not take their power? How would Jackson find a loophole like that?

“… _Why_ do we want the old Jackson back?” Stiles asked. “Could you imagine old Jackson with new Jackson’s powers? Shit, he’d rip you apart.”

“No, he wouldn’t,” Isaac said with a forlorn smile.

Derek nodded in agreement. The old Jackson with that kind of power would be at the beck and call of Derek, simply because he wanted to fit in. He wanted to be accepted by the alpha and that would mean doing everything to make Derek happy.

“Jackson always wants more power,” Stile stated with a shrug.

“Old Jackson knew I was his alpha.”

“And he was in love with you,” Isaac added, shrugging when Derek glared at him.

“Oh, yeah. I forgot about that,” Stiles said with a laugh. “Man, he _really_ loved power.”

Derek shook his head. “This isn’t a laughing matter, Stilinski,” he said, feeling his heart sink. “We’ve got a huge problem, now.”

“Aww, don’t tell me you love Jackson now?” Stiles groaned and threw his hands up. “You two have _got_ to get on the same wavelength.”

“That’s not it,” Derek snapped with a glare. “Jackson just killed one of the alphas in the new pack. They’ll be hunting him, if he left any witnesses.”

“There was one other beta, who ran away. I think Jackson was going to chase after her, but stopped to help me.” Isaac lowered his eyes, shame washing over him.

“Training is different from a fight, especially against an alpha,” Derek said, placing a hand on his beta’s shoulder. “Unless Jackson killed all three of them.” Isaac’s head dropped. “Don’t worry about it. But someone had better get me some fucking answers about what Jackson is.”

* * *

Back at the loft, Derek found Jackson standing in front of the window. He was still shirtless and still had the blood of the betas and alpha on him. Boyd and Erica, apparently, hadn’t returned to the loft. As long as they were together, they were safe. The new pack wasn’t after them.

Peter was in the shower, though. With that time alone, Derek stood beside Jackson. Glancing at the beta, he could see the scars on Jackson’s throat from his claws. “Show me your eyes.”

Jackson frowned and looked at Derek, his eyes sparkling blue for a moment. “I don’t want it or need it for myself, Derek.”

“You can just murder an alpha and ignore that power?” Derek asked, still trying to understand.

“I’m not the alpha,” Jackson said and a smirk spread over his face. “That’s your job, isn’t it?”

Derek gave a halfhearted glare. He sniffed and froze, turning Jackson to face him. He buried his face into Jackson’s throat, inhaling deeply. He could smell wolf, his own scent in there and that delicious scent that was Jackson. He pulled back and stared at the beta. He wondered if Jackson always had that scent whenever he felt something.

Jackson swallowed thickly and stepped back. “Why do I feel you? I could even feel your inability to shave on my throat.”

“You might not believe it, but I _am_ your alpha. Every beta feels their alpha,” Derek said and looked out the window. Boyd and Erica were returning. “Shower before Boyd and Erica get back.”

“Why? You don’t want them to see that I upstaged you?”

Derek glared at Jackson and that damn smirk. Erica was right. Jackson definitely discovered his ego. The glare disappeared and he gazed at Jackson. “Do you like it when I touch you?”

“Does that mean do I want more of it?” Derek raised an eyebrow, but nodded. “Then yes, I like it.”

“Then shower or I won’t touch you ever again,” Derek said and Jackson rolled his eyes, but went into the bedroom, removing the basketball shorts. “Jackson.”

Jackson stopped and turned to him, head tilted. Derek walked into the bedroom and turned Jackson around, staring at the scars on the back of his left thigh. He turned him around again, seeing smaller scars, like from the tips of claws on the front of his thighs. He pulled back and frowned at him.

There wasn’t anything he could say, except, “From now, I’m going to inspect your body. If I find any new scars, no touching for a week.”

Jackson sneered in such a familiar way that Derek felt warmth curl in his chest. “Think _you_ could last that long?” he asked, that smirk falling back into place.

Jackson had definitely discovered his ego and his pride.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it. If ya did, drop a kudos or a line.
> 
> Until the next one.
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	7. Pain

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Pain

Standing at the window, Jackson winced and rubbed his neck. What had started as a tickle was now buzzing up and down his spine. Derek was asleep and Jackson didn’t want to know what he was dreaming. The feeling that was spilling through their link had Jackson frowning.

There was anger and sadness, but it felt different from the two of those. There was something else mixed in with them, something Jackson didn’t know. He wanted to check on Derek, to study his face. But after the shower, Derek had closed his bedroom door for the rest of the night.

Despite not knowing what the feeling was, Jackson found the link and tried to send through warmth. That only made it worse. Jackson couldn’t understand it. Whenever Derek felt sadness, that warmth and comfort seemed to make him feel better. Or, at least, it took away the sting of tears. Now, it seemed to have the opposite effect. Not wanting to feel it anymore, Jackson shut down his side of the link.

Watching as the sun began to rise, Jackson stared at the pavement opposite the window. He could feel one of the other pack coming and they wanted to make a statement. As though sensing an impending threat, Derek woke and walked out of his room. He stood beside Jackson, watching the pavement, as well.

In a matter of minutes, the others were gathering around the window. Isaac seemed twitchy and Jackson didn’t know if it was anger or something else. The beta’s face kept going from a glare, to an almost pleading glance at the alpha. Returning his eyes to the pavement, Jackson waited.

“What happened yesterday?” Erica asked, rubbing her eyes. She blinked and looked out the window. “Why are they pissed off at us?”

“They aren’t. They’re angry with me,” Jackson answered, feeling Erica’s eyes on him for a moment, before they moved on.

“Derek?” she asked.

Derek glanced at her, very quickly. “An alpha and two betas attacked Isaac and Jackson yesterday. Jackson killed them.”

Jackson could feel the shocked eyes on him. “I’m not an alpha.”

“But you killed one,” Peter said and then looked at Derek. “Are you sure he’s not an alpha?”

“He still has the blue eyes,” Derek answered, not looking at his uncle.

“I didn’t want it,” Jackson said, frowning when the tips of Derek’s fingers touched his. He pulled his hand away and crossed his arms. “I simply removed a threat.”

“There’s three betas and two alphas left,” Derek said, turning his back to the window and looking at his pack. “I think Jackson killed an alpha of the bonded pair, which…isn’t going to end well for us.”

Jackson wanted to tell Derek to hand him over. He could handle whatever they did to him, but he also knew that Derek was opposed to that idea. After all, he was the one that had killed the alpha and they were out for his blood. He needed to remove the threat of that pack, especially as they had almost killed one of the betas he must protect.

Lowering his eyes, Jackson tried to find that spark he felt yesterday. The one where he felt good about himself and good about his abilities. Erica had called it ‘ego.’ He wanted that back, because then he knew he could help Derek. However, just as he felt the spluttering of that spark, something told him that it could be his downfall.

The female alpha with the pack stopped across the street and stared up at the window. Her eyes were fixated on Jackson. He gazed back and her eyes flashed red. Jackson tilted his head and she growled, as though he was being clueless on purpose.

They stared at each other for a while, before she crossed the street and entered the building. Jackson turned, wanting to greet her at the door. Derek placed a hand on his shoulder and stood in front of his pack. Jackson frowned as something passed over him and it wasn’t from Derek. He felt the need to stand by Derek’s side and face the other alpha with him.

Less than a minute later, the door was opened and the woman walked in. “Stand down, Hale,” she said lowly. “We just want… _that_.” Her eyes bored into Jackson’s and he tilted his head again.

Moving through the pack, Jackson stood beside Derek and stared at her. Before he could step up to her, Derek placed a hand on his shoulder. Jackson tried to ignore the warmth that spread through his body. He forced his heart not to beat, not wanting to give away that Derek affected him. It didn’t work.

At the sound of his beating heart, the woman’s eyes widened for a moment, before laughing harshly. “How cute! You’re bonded,” she said mockingly. “My brother was bonded to his mate, as well. Until that killed him.”

“Your brother attacked _him_ and one of my betas,” Derek stated, narrowing his eyes and tightening his grip on Jackson. “He defended himself.”

“He’s a murderer.”

That feeling that Derek had when he was sleeping filled Jackson. He didn’t know what it was, but he just knew he had to kill the female alpha. She didn’t know a thing about him and she would call him that?

Anger bubbled in him and he shoved Derek to the side, appearing in front of the female. Her eyes widened for a moment. Her claws came out and went for his heart. Jackson caught her wrist and broke it easily. He could feel her healing kicking in, but he wanted to remind her that he _could_ have killed her if he wanted to.

“Jackson, what the fuck?!” Boyd shouted.

Jackson ignored the shocked eyes on him and the wet screams of the alpha that had her throat removed. He could feel someone watching him, appreciating his work as he ripped off the arm he held. The stench of her blood filled the loft and Jackson couldn’t remember the last time he felt such hot rage. All he wanted to do was kill her.

“Leave,” he said calmly. She nodded and stumbled back. “I don’t mean the building. I mean the town.”

She didn’t say anything as she staggered out of the loft, leaving a trail of blood behind her. Jackson kept glaring at the door. When he turned his furious eyes on Derek’s pack, he saw the way they were looking at him. Only Peter had any sort of admiration for what he did. Derek’s anger was thick in the air as he glared at Jackson.

Looking down at his blood covered hands, Jackson realized it. What he had done hadn’t been nearly as satisfying as he hoped. Seeing the fear in the eyes of those he was meant to call pack added something to the anger he felt. It wasn’t anger at them. Jackson recognized enough to know he was angry at himself.

Isaac was the first to approach him. Jackson didn’t realize it, having gone back to staring at his hands. His claws were still out. They were still covered with the blood of an alpha. An alpha that had called him a murderer. An alpha that didn’t know how close she was to the truth. An alpha that could put him out of his misery, if he tried hard enough.

He didn’t feel Isaac’s hands on him, but he saw them. He growled in warning, but Isaac didn’t move. In fact, the hands tightened their hold. He growled again, which only happened again and again as the others hugged him. He wanted to shove them back. He wanted nothing more than to be away from that loft, away from Derek’s pack and away from Derek.

And that’s exactly what he did. After a few minutes, he backed away. The glare was still in place, but they didn’t look frightened of him any longer. They appeared as though they understood what he was going through and that just made him angrier.

Before he fully knew what he was doing, he had spun around and ran for the door. He skidded to a halt, slipping in the blood as he found Derek blocking his exit. The wolf retreated as the alpha’s eyes glowed at him, but the anger was still burning.

Derek’s red eyes went to his pack. “Find something else to do,” he told them. Boyd, Erica and Isaac squeezed past him and left the building.

Peter remained where he was. “I want to spar with him,” he said.

Jackson felt his fangs come through, but he pushed it away. The only one he wanted to kick the shit out of was Derek. He was trapped in the loft. His eyes darted to the window and made a dash for it, only to have Derek grab his ankle and keep him in place.

Snarling, Jackson twisted and punched the alpha across the cheek. Derek didn’t feel it and, had Jackson been thinking rationally, he would question why that was. Instead, he punch the alpha again and again, there was no reaction. Derek just held his ankle, accepting the punches. Peter seemed to realize that he wasn’t going to spar with Jackson and left the loft, closing the door.

Jackson shoved Derek down and growled at him, eyes blazing blue. Derek stared back at him, emotionless. There was no alpha in his eyes and Jackson curled his lip back. He wanted to hit Derek until his blood covered his hands and face. He wanted to tear him limb from limb, but glaring down into those hazel green eyes, Jackson couldn’t do anything. All he could do was stare. Derek was right there, but it was just like the other victims. The rage had his body so tense that it would hurt.

Derek’s hand cupped his cheek and Jackson ignored the warmth of the hand. His link to Derek was shut down. Why was he feeling what he did? Why did that touch make him want to cry and hold onto Derek, like he was some kind of saving grace? Why was the anger leaving him, the longer Derek touched him?

“What you’re feeling right now…it’s called ‘guilt,’” Derek explained softly, his thumb running along Jackson’s cheekbone. “And if you don’t deal with it, it _will_ kill you, slowly.”

Jackson flashed through his victims. The people Matt and Gerard had used him to kill, the betas and the alpha the day before. Every one of them had a right to live and he had taken it from them. Whether they were threats or not, he had taken the one precious thing they had. He had snatched it from them with his claws

Looking at Derek, Jackson slapped his hand away and glared. “Good.”

Pain flashed through Derek’s eyes, before it was replaced with anger. “No,” he snarled and stood.

Jackson’s eyes flicked to the door, but he growled as Derek wrapped his arms around him. He struggled, fought and even clawed to get free. Derek’s strength never wavered, but only became more secure the longer Jackson contested the hug.

After an hour, Jackson realized he wasn’t going anywhere. He stood still, glaring to the side so he didn’t have to look at anything that was Derek. He could feel his body tensing as Derek’s fingers brushed over his neck and that ignited another bout of growls, snarls and more blood being spilled. Jackson did everything he could to get free, but Derek refused to let him go. It was just another bout of guilt and anger that washed over him.

Another hour later, Jackson stopped again. Derek’s shirt was in tatters on the floor, which Jackson was regretting. Derek’s torso was warm against his body and he didn’t want to feel it. He didn’t want to feel anything. He just wanted to feel the sweet release of death. He wanted to feel the sweet release of finally going to hell for everything he’d done.

“I’m not letting you go until you deal with this, Jackson,” Derek murmured and the arms tightened.

“And if I don’t want to deal with it now?”

“Too bad.”

* * *

Derek knew hours passed, with Jackson struggling to get free almost every twenty minutes. It was as though he forgot that he couldn’t escape. Derek had tried to force their link open, but Jackson kept slamming it shut in his face. Derek wouldn’t admit it, but he could even feel the wolf pulling away from him.

Jackson was a rock in his arms. His body was so tensed from the anger that every time Derek tried to relax him, another bout of guilt washed over him. For a moment, Derek believed that Jackson was punishing himself for something. His pack knew that Jackson felt guilty about his time as the kanima and none of them fully blamed him for the deaths.

The female alpha would never know why calling Jackson a murderer struck so deeply in him. His guilt had quickly been overridden by fury and Derek actually felt fear towards his newest beta. He always knew Jackson would make a formidable pack member – he’d had years of training and honing of his skills – but he never thought that Jackson could be _lethal_.

Derek had seen it in Jackson’s eyes when he removed the arm of the alpha. He had wanted to kill her, literally rip her limbs from her body. He had forced himself not to do that, as that would make her right. And no one but Jackson Whittemore could be right about anything.

That was the kind of available potential that Derek wanted to tap into and show Jackson how strong he could really be. But Jackson thought he didn’t want that. He couldn’t live up to his full potential until he dealt with his guilt and came to terms with his blue eyes. Jackson _needed_ to talk about it, but Jackson never spoke about his problems. He ignored them until they couldn’t be ignored.

Jackson was struggling in his arms again. There was pain from the claws slicing his torso, but he held on. He was going to make sure Jackson knew there was another person he couldn’t push away. Lydia was the only person that could make Jackson do something he didn’t want to. As much as Derek wanted her there, just to help keep Jackson calm, he heard his blood splash to the floor. He couldn’t ask Lydia to watch Jackson’s animal struggle with reality. Not again.

Bringing Jackson closer to his body just gave him an excuse to shred the back of his shirt. Derek could hear Jackson’s heart beating frantically in his chest, but realized he wasn’t breathing. Without a beating heart, Jackson had no reason to breathe.

“Breathe,” Derek ordered and Jackson froze, claws still in the flesh of Derek’s shoulders.

Jackson inhaled. Derek kept his heart steady, gently nuzzling the side of Jackson’s head. He inhaled again and Derek never realized how good it felt to feel his shoulders moving. He breathed in, wanting to smell Jackson’s scent and felt his stomach sink.

Jackson’s scent was completely overpowered by unadulterated anguish and self-loathing. Not even the musk of the wolf could come through emotions that powerful and Derek finally realized why Jackson refused to deal with the guilt. Jackson literally hated everything about himself.

Derek wondered when that started. After he awoke as a werewolf, Derek hadn’t thought to ask him about his memories. Everyone knew that the kanima was a separate entity existing within Jackson, but there had to be times when he was awake and knew, could see, could feel what was happening around him. He must have felt so powerless to stop it.

Jackson’s claws left his shoulders and the arms fell, lifeless. This time, when Derek’s fingers brushed over his neck, there was no struggle. There was nothing, but Derek could smell everything. Jackson hadn’t shut off his emotions and Derek was hopeful he would try to deal with his guilt.

Derek was no stranger to guilt, himself. He knew that it couldn’t be worked out in a single day, but if Jackson ever needed a punching bag, someone to lean on or an ear to listen, Derek wanted him to know he would always be there. Even if he acted as savagely as he did now, he was never letting go of that wolf. He couldn’t.

Jackson slumped against him and Derek’s eyes widened. He pulled back and saw that Jackson had passed out. Somehow, that terrified him more than anything he’d seen that day. He would give Jackson a few hours to wake up and get back to, relative normalcy, before he brought in Deaton.

* * *

When Jackson opened his eyes, he was on Derek’s bed. His head was resting on the alpha’s thigh, who had a hand on his back, thumb idly stroking one of the scars. The loft had been scrubbed down, as he couldn’t smell any blood and realized he must have been bathed.

His heart thumped wildly in his chest and he shivered as Derek ran his nails over his shoulder. He saw his hand resting on Derek’s knee and felt the denim under his fingertips. He gripped it as he trembled, knowing that the sensations running through his body would stop and he didn’t want that. The hand moved from his shoulder and Jackson lowered his eyes. A page was turned and the hand was back.

The alpha knew he was awake, but nothing was spoken. There was no shift in scents, except his. One of the pack was approaching the door and Jackson closed his eyes, hearing a soft knock. “Come in,” Derek said, his voice just as quiet, as though Jackson wasn’t awake.

Erica’s scent filled the room and Jackson felt her eyes on him, gentle. “We’re thinking Chinese for dinner,” she said, barely above a whisper. “Do you think Jackson will be hungry?”

Jackson flinched and he heard a soft intake of air, as though Erica was frightened she had spoken too loudly and woken him. Jackson opened his eyes, gazing at her. She gave a small smile, before she nodded and closed the door. The hand on his shoulder continued to move and Jackson ran his thumbnail along the grooves of the jeans.

“What happened?” Jackson asked, watching his thumb. He could still feel the texture of the cotton.

“You passed out,” Derek said and moved his hand to turn the page of the book he was reading. It was placed back on Jackson’s shoulder. “How do you feel?”

Jackson frowned. He felt good, relaxed. He liked the feeling of Derek’s fingers on his shoulder, stroking the scars he refused to heal. He didn’t know how to convey that, though. Instead, he rolled over, placing his head on Derek’s knee. The movement broke the contact he had with the alpha’s hand, but he could watch the eyes scanning the words of the pages. Derek looked relaxed, as well. As though he had waited years for this moment.

“I don’t know,” he said quietly, realizing it was the truth.

Derek lowered the book and gazed at him. Jackson felt his chest tighten and his throat close. That pain wasn’t coming from the alpha, though. He was feeling it, alone. Derek’s eyes were gentle, not demanding anything, but asking all the same.

Jackson looked away from the eyes. “I’ll—”

“Okay.”

Jackson frowned and looked at Derek, seeing that he had the book raised again. Somehow, his chest seemed tighter than possible. He at least waited until Derek had finished speaking before he gave that emotionless answer. He glared and slapped his hands hard on Derek’s leg as he sat up.

There was a slight growl from Derek, but Jackson was staring at his hands. His palms were red and he had felt a slight stinging when he slapped them down. As he stared at them, the red faded quickly and he frowned, pursing his lips.

“What, are you now shocked you have hands?” Derek asked, glancing at Jackson.

“It hurt,” Jackson said and Derek lowered the book.

“What are you saying?”

Jackson shot from the bed when Derek reached out to check his hands. “Don’t touch me,” he said, a very slight tremor in his voice as he stared at Derek.

Stiles had tried to find his weakness. Stiles wanted to know if there was anything that could make him feel. Being near Derek made him feel. Derek touching him reminded him that he had a heart. Derek holding him made him feel safe. Derek was his weakness and that was one thing Jackson _definitely_ did not like.

Derek slipped off the bed and Jackson was out the door and out of the loft. He ran, fear coursing through his veins as it used to whenever he was near Derek. He ran through the forest, unsure of where he was going. But he knew and he hated himself for it.

* * *

Jackson didn’t return that night. Erica and Isaac had gone out searching for him. The three betas skipped school the next day, searching for his non-existent scent. Derek stared out the window, Stiles and Scott sitting on his sofa. Peter had gone out to check on the new pack, as Scott had followed a blood trail back to the Beacon Hills Motel on the edge of town.

“Where’s Jackson?” Stiles asked.

Derek felt a muscle in his neck tense. He was tired of hearing Stiles ask about Jackson, as though Derek couldn’t look after him. He relaxed when he realized he couldn’t. Jackson had run from him…again. He had felt pain and he had run.

“Out,” Derek answered. “He went out last night.”

“Oh. And how’s the whole emotionless thing going?” Stiles stared at Derek, who finally turned to him. Stiles looked down at the glare. “I’m curious,” he mumbled.

“And we’re worried,” Scott added. “Stiles told me what Jackson did. He killed an alpha and didn’t become one? Are you sure about that?”

“Yes,” Derek seethed. “He’s not an alpha.”

“That…doesn’t sound like Jackson,” Scott said with a frown. “But how is he, after doing…what he did?”

“He’s fine,” Derek answered and rested against the wall beside the window, crossing his arms over his chest. “Not a damn problem with it.”

Stiles cocked an eyebrow. “But…?” he pried.

“But,” Derek growled with a glare. “The rest of it is none of your business, until he tells you about it.”

Scott stared at Derek as though trying to read his mind. “You’re scared of him.”

“I’m scared _for_ him.” Derek lowered his eyes and shook his head, still seeing the cold gleam in Jackson’s eyes when he removed the arm from the alpha. There was no remorse, no sense of caring what pain he caused. “What he did…I’m scared he’ll do something like that with his pack.”

Jackson’s words whispered through Derek’s mind. _I’m not one of you._ While he would admit the scars were hot, he would prefer the flawless skin of a werewolf beneath his fingers. And when he thought of the night before, Jackson had felt pain. Something was starting to click within his mind and Derek knew he had to nurture it.

“Damn,” Scott said as he sat back and gazed at Derek coldly. “I almost believed that. You know for a fact that Jackson would never turn on you or your pack.”

“ _His_ pack,” Derek snapped, eyes flashing red.

“He doesn’t see it that way,” Scott said with a dismissive flick of his hand.

“Thanks, Scott. Super fucking helpful.”

“Have you spoken to Deaton about him?” Stiles asked suddenly.

Jackson’s standard answer came to Derek. “I didn’t know I had to,” he said and frowned.

“Take Jackson and go see him,” Stiles said as he stood. “Make sure Deaton gives him a full physical. I wanna know I didn’t do any damage to him.”

Derek stared after them as they left the loft. Jackson _had_ been different since the tests with Stiles. The emotions he knew came a little more freely than before. But the guilt he suffered would probably be the most damning of his emotions. If he fell apart, Derek wasn’t sure if he could pick up the pieces and that worried him.

Gritting his teeth, Derek glared at the floor. He was the goddamn alpha of the Hale pack. He would die before he failed that duty again.

Grabbing his leather jacket, Derek left his loft. He ran into the woods, just knowing that Jackson would be in the old Hale house. He approached silently, listening for a beating heart and not expecting to hear it. He did hear it, though and it was upstairs. He frowned and went up the stairs, following the hallway and stopping outside a familiar room. His old bedroom.

Stepping into the room, Derek found Jackson curled up in the center of the ruined floor. As the sun came through the holes in the roof, the scars on Jackson’s back seemed more prominent. The heart was beating, but the shoulders weren’t moving. Derek would use that as a reason when Jackson suddenly spun around on his back and swept Derek’s feet from under him. God, he loved the speed Jackson had.

Derek crashed through the destroyed floor and landed with a grunt on the main floor, staring up at the hole. Jackson slipped through it and landed like he weighed nothing and Derek refused to think of how good he looked moving that way, all muscle, strength and grace. He rested on a knee beside Derek, tilting his head as he gazed at him.

Seeing his eyes, Derek saw they were slightly red and sat up. Jackson didn’t move, keeping his head lowered and Derek had to wonder what happened during the night. Jackson’s heart kept a steady rhythm, but there was apology surrounding him, like he hadn’t meant to send Derek crashing through the floor.

Jackson knelt there, like a statue as Derek stood. The only movement from him was his neck twitching. Derek placed a hand on his head and Jackson slapped a hand over his neck. He couldn’t fault his newest beta anything. He had shown no fear, despite knowing it was his alpha he attacked. He had come down for his punishment.

“How do you feel?”

Jackson’s head lowered, but the hand remained over his neck. “Better,” he said, a tremor running through his body. He raised his head and looked up at Derek, resolution in his eyes. “When that pack comes for revenge, don’t touch me.”

Derek kept the hurt from his eyes, but he knew Jackson could hear how his heart thudded. An alpha being told not to touch their betas would always be painful. “Why?”

Jackson stood and stared into Derek’s eyes. “Because I feel it.”

* * *

“Well,” Deaton said as he removed the stethoscope from Jackson. “He has a heartbeat, finally. But he still scars, I see. Those are all new.”

“Yeah,” Derek growled and glared at Jackson, who stared straight ahead. “Stiles decided to run some tests on him. Shot him with bullets, an arrow, shoved a baseball bat full of nails into him, tazered him _and_ set him on fire.”

“Don’t forget the ax, as well.”

Derek frowned. “What ax?”

Jackson tapped the scar on his shoulder. “That’s from the ax.”

Deaton got Jackson to stand up and checked the scars. “I can only see one bullet wound. Where was the other one?”

“Through my head,” Jackson answered and Deaton looked up in surprise.

“I…I wasn’t expecting that answer,” Deaton finally said. “Now, what brings you here? I haven’t really found out much about him. No one knows anything about this. It’s a completely new case.”

“He needs a physical, then,” Derek said with a shrug.

“As far as I can tell, he’s in peak condition.” Deaton held Jackson’s face in his hands, ignoring the warning rumble from Derek. “Have you been feeling anything recently?”

“Yes.”

“Like what?” Deaton asked, checking Jackson’s teeth. Jackson lowered his eyes and glanced at Derek quickly. “Ahh, you feel something when the alpha touches you?”

“Yes.”

“Does it feel nice?” Deaton inquired, moving to Jackson’s biceps, feeling the muscles.

“Most of the time.”

“Oh,” Deaton said, pressing on Jackson’s abdomen. “There are times when it doesn’t?”

“When it hurts.”

“When what hurts?”

“Me.”

Deaton glanced at Derek and beckoned him closer. When Derek was close enough for both of them to feel his warmth, Deaton pressed hard on Jackson’s inner thigh. He nodded when Jackson hissed and glared down at him.

“Well, as it goes with any beta, the alpha makes them stronger,” Deaton said as he checked Jackson’s feet, before checking his hip, knee and ankle joints. When he was done, he stood back. “He is a perfect specimen of a werewolf.”

Derek stared at Deaton. “What aren’t you telling me?”

“I guessed it when I saw him last time, but your link with him? It isn’t the normal link of an alpha with his beta. That link predates his transformation,” Deaton said as he removed his gloves and threw them into the bin. “It began when you scratched him.”

“What, the link?”

Deaton washed his hands and turned to Derek, drying them with paper towel. “Yes. You know where I’m going with this, Derek.” His eyes moved to Jackson. “Hold out his hand.”

Derek frowned, but did as Deaton said. He grabbed Jackson’s left wrist and felt the warmth return to his body. Deaton handed Jackson a scalpel and Jackson didn’t need any instruction, stabbing it through the palm of his hand. Derek looked away, refusing to see that.

Jackson screamed and Derek jumped back, releasing him. Jackson had sunk to his knees, holding his bleeding hand, his fingers curled up in pain. Once Derek let him go, the pain disappeared from Jackson’s eyes and he removed the scalpel, the wound healing and adding to the scar already there.

“This one is going to be worse for him,” Deaton said. “Hold him.”

Derek swallowed and shook his head. “No. I’m not doing that to him.”

“Hold him!”

Derek took hold of Jackson’s wrist, pulling him to his feet. He wrapped his spare arm around Jackson’s shoulders and closed his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he whispered as the scalpel sliced through the middle joint of the finger.

“Fuck! Why?”

Derek kept hold of Jackson. He took the pain from Jackson, releasing him when Deaton said so. It took longer than before, but the agony finally disappeared from Jackson’s eyes and the finger regrew. Glaring at Deaton, Derek silently demanded an answer.

“Stiles did those tests to find his weakness. _You’re_ his weakness, Derek. I think that bullet through the brain did something,” Deaton explained, wiping up Jackson’s blood.

Derek looked at Jackson’s hand, not seeing a scar. He gently massaged the finger and looked at Deaton. “The alpha is usually a beta’s weakness,” he said.

“You know it’s more than that with Jackson,” Deaton said quietly, his eyes locked with Derek’s. “When he’s near you, he feels everything he should. He’d probably feel the pull of the full moon. He remembers what life is like. He knows pain, now, for god sake.”

“Of course he does! His finger was just cut off,” Derek snapped.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it, Derek.” Deaton sighed. “Look, you wanted my help and I’ve given it. If you want to take down the alphas in the new pack, without having Jackson take their lives, you need to realize that you’re each other’s strength and weakness.”

Derek pursed his lips for a moment, before breathing out, “My mate.” The words were funny on his tongue, especially when referencing Jackson.

Deaton nodded. “You wanted him, so you marked him.”

Derek lowered his eyes, checking the finger. It looked perfectly normal. He thought of all the times Jackson showed he felt nothing. He wasn’t touching Derek when he removed body parts or stabbed himself through the chest. He was definitely nowhere near Jackson when Stiles performed those tests.

But as he looked at the hand of Jackson, Derek realized something. He looked up and Deaton nodded slowly, sorrow passing over his face for a moment. He didn’t want to know what him being Jackson’s weakness meant, but he was going to hear it.

“Yes. When he’s near you, he can die.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading and for the kudos! I hope this chapter was to your liking as well. If it was, drop a line. I love hearing for peeps.
> 
> Until the next one!
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	8. Amusement

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Amusement

The next few weeks were hectic for Jackson and Derek’s pack. After damaging the female alpha of the other pack, they had tried to set up an attack. Derek had shut them down, threatening to unleash Jackson on them. After killing the maimed alpha, the final alpha decided it would be best if they left. Jackson knew it had nothing to do with him. She was hurting from the loss of her mate and didn’t want to lose her entire pack to a non-existent thing. Honestly, it was completely anti-climactic.

Since then, there were no more threats.

Jackson sat in the hallway, staring down the stairs, knees to his chest as he thought. He was feeling things. He had opened his link to Derek, wanting to feel the warmth of the alpha around him all the time. The worst part was wanting to slip into Derek’s bed and sleep beside him. He hadn’t felt a desire to sleep for the last five months. He drew his knees in closer, resting his arms on them. He couldn’t feel his hands on his shoulders, but he liked to pretend he was being hugged.

What took him the longest was squashing down his jealousy. Derek may have called him ‘mate,’ but they both knew it was an accident. It was just like everything else in Jackson’s life. Last week, he had seen Lydia and hugged her, just to see if he felt anything. There was nothing and Jackson had left, angry with everything. He wasn’t even sure if he wanted to be mated with Derek.

Shaking his head, Jackson pushed those thoughts out of his mind and stood up. He could feel tears pricking his eyes. He inhaled deeply and wiped his eyes, entering the loft. He closed the door and went to the window, staring out. Derek came to his door and stared at him.

“Is there a threat?”

“No.”

Derek yawned. “Then go to sleep…or reboot, whatever it is you do.”

“I’m not tired or lagging… Do you seriously think I’m a fucking computer?” Jackson glared at Derek.

Derek sighed and Jackson found he was doing that a lot lately. “Did you want to sleep with me?” Jackson’s glare became venomous. “Okay,” Derek said with another sigh. “I’ve got training in the morning. If you’re gonna stand there, keep your emotions under control.”

Jackson nodded and Derek went back to bed. He frowned as there was a sharp pain in his stomach, but pushed it aside. He continued to stare out the window, until the sun rose. Peter was the first up and he froze when he saw Jackson at the window. Before he could ask the question, Jackson shook his head.

Peter shrugged and began cooking breakfast. Jackson turned to him, tilting his head. He frowned as Peter attempted French toast. Rolling his eyes, Jackson went into the kitchen and pushed Peter out of the way. He grabbed the eggs, bacon and sausages from the fridge. He made the mixture for the toast and began frying it, which seemed to get everyone up.

While the toast browned, Jackson cooked the bacon, knowing that Erica would gut him if he kept her waiting for that. He had the coffee brewing, knowing that Boyd was sour in the morning and got the box of Lucky Charms down for Isaac, along with a glass of orange juice.

While the betas enjoyed the first part of their breakfasts, Jackson washed the pan and fried up the sausages, placing them on a plate and putting that in the middle of the table. Once the eggs were cooked, Derek was at the table. Jackson stacked the dishes neatly and went back to the window, waiting for everyone to finish eating.

“He still doesn’t need sleep or food?” Isaac asked, glancing at Jackson. “I thought things were fixed?”

Derek licked yolk from his thumb and shrugged. “I don’t know what’s going on with him.” He stared at Jackson, who just ignored him. He had no idea why Derek wanted to anger him. “Anyway, finish breakfast.”

The betas glanced at their alpha and then at Jackson, as though trying to find some reason for the show of indifference. As neither of the werewolves had readable expressions, they did as their alpha ordered and finished their breakfast. They ran from the loft, heading down to the basement for their training.

Derek finished his coffee and stood, looking at Jackson. “Jackson, would—?”

“Yes, I’ll do the dishes,” Jackson said. He knew that wasn’t what Derek was going to ask, but he didn’t want to be around him.

“The least you could do is tell me to my face that you don’t want to be around me,” Derek said and Peter’s eyebrows went up.

Jackson turned to Derek and stared at him. “After I finish the dishes, I’ll be going somewhere – I don’t know where and I don’t care – to get out this building and to get away from you. Is that better?”

“Yes.”

Peter shook his head as Derek stormed out of the loft. Jackson went to the kitchen and collected the dishes left on the table. He washed them quickly and turned to leave, to find Peter blocking his path. “Don’t leave, pup. Spend some time with me, instead.”

Jackson frowned. “Why?”

Peter rolled his eyes. “Try not to sound too disgusted at the idea, Jackson,” he said and pulled Jackson over to the sofa, sitting him down.

“You stabbed me, _nine_ times,” Jackson stated, pulling his knees onto the sofa and watching as the television turned on. “How do I know you won’t do that again?”

“How would you know if I did?” Peter asked as he sifted through the channels. He glanced at Jackson when he remained silent. “That wasn’t meant to upset you, pup.”

Jackson stared down at the leather sofa, idly running his thumbnail along the seam on the arm. “I know I’m a freak,” he whispered and glanced at Peter. “I’d prefer not to be reminded every day.”

Peter gazed at him. “Still nothing, then?”

Jackson flinched as his throat closed up and tears stung his eyes. He could feel all that, but he couldn’t feel pain like a normal person. He frowned as he heard a heartbeat in his ear and looked up, seeing that Peter was hugging him. He pulled away, knowing that Derek had felt the sorrow. He swallowed and tried to pretend he wasn’t trembling and that he wasn’t upset.

“I’m trying,” Jackson whispered, his voice cracking. “I swear, I’m trying.”

Derek’s growl echoed through the building as Isaac got a lucky hit on him. Jackson closed his eyes and pushed the self-doubt away. He was normal, completely and totally normal. He sniffed and looked at the television, blocking Derek’s anger. He knew it was directed at him for distracting him.

Peter seemed to know what was going on and nodded. “I believe you, pup. You just need to believe it.” He went back to channel surfing and stopped on a movie. “Ahh! A little comedy to lighten the mood.”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“Oh! You’re killing me, Jackson!” Peter placed a hand over his heart, staring at Jackson. He grinned and wrapped an arm around Jackson’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Let me enlighten you, young, dear pup.”

Jackson stared at the television, trying to understand the show. He didn’t know half the expressions that were being worn by the actors. The first time Peter shook, he let out a loud noise, still holding onto his shoulders, Jackson looked at him. He didn’t understand and turned his eyes back to the television, trying to find what had Peter shaking.

Three hours later, the betas crawled up the stairs. They groaned quietly, all of them muttering that the forest was a better training area. The ground was a lot softer. The trio paused and looked at the television, loud noises coming from their mouths as Peter shook again. Jackson lowered his eyes, keeping his hands on his ankles and wondering what he was missing.

Derek entered the loft, shirt off and using it to wipe the sweat from his face. He walked by the sofa and froze, turning to it and staring at Peter’s hand. It was stroking Jackson’s neck, who clearly couldn’t feel it. Jackson frowned at the sudden anger and turned, looking at Derek. The alpha just glared at him and went into his bedroom. Jackson understood that even less than whatever the noise coming from the betas was.

“Go talk to him now,” Isaac whispered into Jackson’s ear.

Frowning, Jackson turned around and saw that Erica and Boyd were nodding at him. He turned his eyes to Peter, who heaved him off the sofa. His spot was quickly taken by Erica and Isaac, while Boyd sat in the chair that was usually reserved for Derek.

Jackson just stood there, unsure of what to do. Erica sighed and swatted his backside, which he didn’t feel. “You’re blocking the TV, Jackson,” she growled and stood, shoving him to the side. She then pointed to Derek’s room. “Go.”

Taking it to mean they didn’t want him in the living area, Jackson went into Derek’s room and stood at the window. Derek’s in the shower and Jackson can feel eyes on him. He turned to the doorway, Boyd and Isaac standing there, staring at him, confused. Jackson frowned as the pair of them grabbed his arms and forced him into the bathroom. They slammed the door and ran back to the living area, Isaac all but letting out a strange sound.

“What do you want, Jackson?” Derek asked over the shower.

Jackson lowered his eyes. “Nothing.”

“Then why are you in here?”

Jackson frowned. “I think you.”

The temperature of the water was changed and steam filled the small room. Jackson stared at the door, not moving when the shower was turned off and Derek stepped out, grabbing his towel. Giving his body a quick dry, Derek wrapped the towel around his hips and gazed at Jackson.

Jackson stepped back as Derek moved closer, wanting to keep his distance. The moment he could feel Derek’s heat, he knew he would feel everything. He would feel the heat of the room, he’d smell Derek and his heart would race frantically in his chest as he tried to push all of that aside.

Derek tilted his head slightly, but made no comment. He gave one command. “Stay.” And left the bathroom, closing the door behind him.

Jackson stayed in the bathroom, even when the steam clung to him and became condensed on his clothing and skin. He stayed in the bathroom, even when he heard the others ordering dinner. He wanted to step out of the bathroom, but the alpha had given him a command.

His body itched to move, but he told himself the alpha had told him to stay. He would stay where he was, because that’s what he was. A machine for the alpha.

* * *

Derek seemed to forget where he had placed Jackson, as he was surprised to enter the bathroom and find him standing there, awaiting the next command. Jackson wasn’t sure which hurt more – the fact he obeyed a command or the fact that the alpha forgot about him. Derek simply stepped around Jackson and emptied his bladder. It wasn’t until he was washing his hands that he told Jackson to leave.

Jackson left the bathroom and found the others were already in their rooms. He went to leave Derek’s bedroom, but paused and faced him. “Why did you do that?”

Derek removed his shirt and pulled back the covers of his bed. “I wanted to see what you would do. I don’t need an obedient lapdog, Jackson. I need a beta.”

“I must obey the alpha.”

“Don’t,” Derek growled and glared at Jackson. “Don’t pull that shit. You can challenge _some_ orders.”

Jackson nodded and turned from Derek. He tensed when Derek’s hand landed on his shoulder, warmth spreading through him. He glanced at the hand and brushed it off, leaving the bedroom and then the loft. He sat in the hallway, standing down the stairs with his knees to his chest. He definitely preferred it when he couldn’t feel anything. It made being a good beta easier.

* * *

The next few mornings, Jackson made breakfast for Derek’s pack. A few times, he joined Peter on the sofa and watched what he called ‘comedy shows.’ Jackson didn’t understand them, but it felt nice to be included in something for once. The others had training techniques to talk about, as well as homework. Sometimes, Peter would join them for training, leaving Jackson to stare out the window.

One day, at some point, they all began to roll into one for Jackson, he was sitting beside Peter on the sofa. The others were down in the basement, training. Peter had his arm around Jackson’s shoulders again and even though he couldn’t feel the arm, it gave him an idea of what a connection was. And without thinking, he had rested his head on Peter’s shoulder, closing his eyes for just a moment.

The thunderous rage that washed over him had woken Jackson. Jackson grabbed Derek’s wrist before it could rip Peter from the sofa and throw him around the loft. Having no idea what he was doing, Jackson pressed against Derek’s hot, sweaty body and found the touch was nice. It felt right.

Derek was surprised and Jackson rested his forehead on Derek’s chest, inhaling deeply. He smelled delicious, like something Jackson could eat all the time. He needed that scent around him at all times. So, he didn’t protest when Derek growled at Peter and wrapped his arms around Jackson, letting him feel something that made his chest swell and practically sing.

_Don’t tell me to stay somewhere again,_ he sent through their link. _Ever again._ He felt Derek’s hand on his neck, the fingers gently stroking it. The buzzing felt nice, comforting and a reminder that he wasn’t a complete lost cause. He had Derek holding him and that’s all that mattered at that moment.

“Never,” Derek murmured into Jackson’s hair, finally losing the glare he was sending to his uncle. “But if you’re going to sleep anywhere, it’s my bed.”

Jackson gave a slight nod. “Okay.”

“And I’m _never_ to hear that word from your mouth again,” Derek stated angrily.

“Okay,” Jackson said and smirked against the beating heart. He accepted the gentle flick on his shoulder and stepped back. For the second time since Derek began warming him, Jackson instantly missed it. He released Derek’s wrist. “Perhaps you can find something you find amusing. I don’t seem to understand this ‘comedy’ thing.”

Peter snorted, which was cut short. Jackson grabbed Derek’s jaw and forced him to stop glaring at his uncle. Derek’s face contorted with a dozen expressions, some Jackson recognized and others he didn’t. Eventually, Derek just glared at the floor.

“Go shower,” Jackson said and returned to the sofa. He pulled his knees to his chest, holding his ankles.

As soon as the shower turned on, Erica was sitting between Jackson and Peter. “What the hell just happened? You two went from almost killing each other with words to…whatever the fuck that was!”

Peter chuckled and patted her should. “Welcome to new mates trying to understand each other. And one of them is an emotionless freak that gets his feelings fed to him through a control freak,” he explained, going to chuckle again, when he found his air was cut short.

Jackson leaned over Peter, staring down into his eyes blankly. “Just remember, you can still feel pain. And I have no problem torturing someone,” he warned, releasing Peter’s throat when he nodded. He sat down on the sofa again, same position. He glanced at Erica. “I don’t understand it, either.”

Peter groaned. “I explained it. Neither of you have had mates before, thank god. Losing your bond with your mate will send you in-fucking-sane. Trust me, pup. I lived through it and I killed my own niece! You haven’t had emotions in months, so you don’t know how to handle them. Derek doesn’t know how to handle his attraction to you. You were not supposed to be marked. It was an accident.”

Just like everything else in Jackson’s life. He stared at Peter and nodded, turning his eyes to the television. Tomorrow was a day off from training, as it gave Derek a rest from beating his betas into submission and gave them a chance to think about where they went wrong. Jackson looked over his shoulder, into Derek’s bedroom.

* *

That night, after everyone was asleep, Jackson stayed on the sofa. He stared at the dark screen of the television, his mind racing. He knew the bond was an accident, but there had to be a way to break it…aside from death. He turned his head and looked into Derek’s bedroom.

Derek was resting against the wall behind his bed, reading. Jackson’s eyes dropped to the front cover of the book. _Great Expectations_. The title of the book elicited a strange tickling sensation in Jackson stomach, that rose up to his chest and out his mouth in the form of a noise.

“Did you just laugh?” Derek asked without looking from the book.

“Is that what that is?” Jackson frowned and lowered his eyes. It tickled. He liked it.

“Get in here.”

Straightening his head, Jackson gave it a little shake. “I’ll keep watch.” Jackson frowned as he felt a tug. “You’re about to sleep.”

“And we’re _trying_ to sleep!” Erica said, frustrated. “So get in his room and fuck him already.”

The pull happened again and Jackson gave in. He stood up and walked into Derek’s room, standing at the foot of the bed. Derek patted the bed beside him and Jackson hesitated, which made Derek lower the book and stare at him.

“What? What’s wrong?”

Jackson stared at Derek. The question that was burning in his mind was pushed to the side as Derek sat up, concern written on his face. “Will you read the book to me?” he whispered, nerves alight from the question that he wanted to desperately ask.

“Yes,” Derek answered, just as softly. “If you’re on the bed.”

Jackson removed the tee-shirt he wore and stepped onto the bed. He sat with his knees to his chest, beside Derek and stared at the wall. A word fluttered through his mind, easing him as much as the hand on his lower back did. _Relax._ And he did. He laid down, placing his head on Derek’s thigh, the hand moving to his shoulder for a moment, before it left his body.

“My father’s family name being Pirrip, and my Christian name Philip, my infant tongue could make of both names nothing longer or more explicit than Pip. So, I called myself Pip, and came to be called Pip,” Derek read gently, feeling all of his betas relaxing to the sound of their alpha’s voice.

Jackson felt that tickle in his stomach again and let it out in the form of a chuckle. For a moment, despite being an accident, he could believe he was liked and accepted. He closed his eyes as Derek continued to read, ignoring the tear that fell from his eye, being absorbed by Derek’s pajama bottoms.

* * *

Frowning, Jackson rolled over and curled into himself. For a brief moment, he could pretend he didn’t have stabbing pains in his abdomen. After a while, it died off and he stretched out. He wanted to relive the memory of his second day as a werewolf, when he was normal. Erica was kicking his ass during a sparring match. He had felt the pain of being beaten down.

Wrinkling his nose, Jackson thought the scent of his blood was a little too realistic and so was the taste. Sitting bolt upright, Jackson touched the corner of his mouth and looked at the drop of blood. Where had that come from? He saw Derek frowning and ran from the bedroom and out of the loft, and he kept running.

When he was outside of Scott’s house, Jackson spat the blood out of his mouth and used the hose to wash it out. He climbed upstairs and slipped into Scott’s bedroom. Scott sat up, eyes burning gold and groaned as he sat up into Jackson’s hand, who easily shoved his head back to his pillow.

“Down, boy,” he said quietly and glanced at the door. “I have a problem.”

“Isn’t that what Derek’s for?” Scott asked as he rubbed his mouth. “You’re meant to be his mate. Can’t you rudely wake him up?”

“I don’t want him to know,” Jackson said and glanced over his shoulder, staring at the window. “I know you don’t like me,” he continued, returning his eyes to Scott. “But I’m scared.”

Scott sat up and stared at Jackson. “What’s wrong?”

Jackson spat into his hand and showed Scott the blood. “What can cause this?”

“Fuck! I don’t know!” Scott shouted and backed away from Jackson. “When did that start happening?”

“The pain started a week ago. The blood started today.”

Scott stared at the blood on the hand for a long while, before he finally sighed. “If you don’t wanna talk to Derek about it, why not Peter? He’s older than all of us and should know about this kind of stuff.”

Jackson lowered his hand, making sure to keep the blood pooled in his hand. “Derek doesn’t want me near Peter. I think it was because he stabbed me nine times.”

Scott’s face twisted into horrified surprise. “Why?”

“He called it morbid curiosity,” Jackson answered and lowered his eyes.

Scott exhaled shakily. “Derek’s going to kill me.” He rubbed his eyes and groaned. “All right. Jackson, since you were bitten, you’ve been nothing but an enigma. First the kanima, now this. No one knows what’s happening to you, aside from a small journal from the Argents.”

“Do you think they could help me?”

Scott pursed his lips. “I don’t know, man. I haven’t told them about you, because you haven’t been a problem.” He shrugged when Jackson tilted his head. “Unless a dead body shows up, I’ve got no reason to talk to them.” Jackson frowned and lowered his eyes. “That’s _not_ an invitation to kill someone,” he stated.

Jackson looked up and nodded. He stood and went to the window. “I’ll talk to them, anyway.” As he went to slip out, he paused and looked back at Scott. “I’m meant to say something here…”

“Well, yeah. Usually a ‘sorry for waking you’ or ‘thanks for your help’ is said before you leave.” Scott scratched his cheek, staring at Jackson. “That aside, I think you should wait. I don’t think the Argents will like you waking them up at…” He looked at the clock beside him and groaned. “Oh, god! Jackson, it isn’t even six o’clock yet!”

“You’re a werewolf.”

“I still like my sleep,” Scott muttered as he settled back in his bed.

Jackson slipped out the window, ignoring his blood left on the sill. He stepped onto the street and looked around. He hadn’t seen Allison since he woke up as a werewolf and his senses had been overloaded with _everything_. He didn’t know what her scent was. He wasn’t even sure if he knew where she lived.

Walking along the streets of the town while it was starting to waken was interesting. People leaving for work paused to stare at the teenager that was walking around, shirtless and bare foot. Jackson wandered, aimless for quite some time, until a car pulled up beside him. He looked at the vehicle and then the driver, seeing Sheriff Stilinski in there.

“Jackson,” Noah called and Jackson stopped to look at him. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

Jackson shook his head. “I don’t have a clock.”

Noah raised an eyebrow, but made no comment. “Where are you going?”

“I want to see the Argents,” Jackson answered. “But I can’t remember where they live.”

Noah reached across the car and opened the passenger door. “Get in. It’s like fifty degrees out there,” he said and straightened as Jackson slipped into the car. “Are the Argents expecting you?”

“Expecting me at their house?” Jackson asked for clarification. Noah nodded and pulled away from the curb. “No.”

“So…you don’t know if they’re even awake?”

“No.”

Shaking his head, Noah set up his cell phone and called Chris Argent, if the name of the contact was anything to go by. It rang for a while, before a gruff and annoyed voice answered with a sharp, “What?”

“Chris, it’s Noah. I’ve got Jackson with me and he says he’s trying to find your house,” John explained as he turned a corner.

“Jackson?” Chris asked and Jackson heard the sleep in his voice. “Shit, that kid that turned into the kanima? I thought he was with Derek’s pack. Why do _you_ have him? Who’d he kill this time?”

Jackson felt his claws dig into his palms. “Two alphas and two betas,” he said with gritted teeth.

“That explains why that pack left the town as quickly as they showed up.” Chris stretched and Jackson heard a door open. “Why are you looking for us, Jackson?”

Noah looked at Jackson expectantly, clearly wanting to know the answer as well. Jackson wasn’t sure how he could explain it. He didn’t even know if Chris would believe him, as he would have to wait for proof.

“I’m a non-existent,” Jackson finally said and lowered his eyes.

Chris snorted. “Yeah, right. There hasn’t been one of those in over a thousand years. And the one before that was three thousand years ago.”

“I can show you when I get there,” Jackson said, staring at his knees.

“This had better be worth it, kid,” Chris warned and hung up.

“A non-existent?” Noah asked, slowing at a stop sign.

“It’s exactly how it sounds,” Jackson said and sat back.

“That means…you don’t exist,” Noah stated and Jackson could smell his confusion. It was nearly identical to Stiles’. “If you didn’t exist, I wouldn’t see you… Right?”

Jackson lowered his eyes, feeling his throat close up and his chest tighten. “I’m not meant to,” he croaked and raised his eyes, glaring at the road ahead.

“You aren’t meant to…what? Exist?” Noah glanced at Jackson sharply. “Don’t be silly, Jackson. Of course you’re meant to live.”

“I am. I exist.”

Noah shook his head, pulling up in front of a house. He placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. “Existing isn’t the same as living. There are times when all of us feel like we’re just existing, but then something happens and suddenly, existing isn’t enough. There’s a reason to live.”

Jackson lowered his eyes, running the sheriff’s words through his head. The door to the house opened and Jackson glanced at the sheriff. “Thanks for your help,” he said and got out of the car.

Chris Argent stared at Jackson with tired eyes, which slowly became more awake as he looked at the teen. His eyes took in the scars on the torso and then the throat, before they went back to Jackson’s face. He stepped to the side and Jackson entered without hesitation. That was something Chris knew about the kid.

Yawning, Chris pulled out a pistol with a silencer, shooting Jackson in the left shoulder. Jackson froze when he smelled blood and looked at his feet, seeing a splash there. He spun around and glared at Chris, who was lowering the weapon, staring at the newest scar.

“Had to test it, kid,” Chris said and beckoned Jackson to follow him.

In the basement, Jackson looked around. He tilted his head at the weapons on display, before he finally looked at Chris. “Can you tell me anything new?”

“How am I meant to know? Why don’t you try telling me what _you_ know?” Chris sat on a stool and drank his coffee.

“Six months ago, almost to the day, I woke up as a werewolf. I wolfed out once and started to lose emotions. My hunger and need for sleep followed very soon after. I didn’t know I couldn’t feel pain, until a hunter attacked me.”

“Ahh, yes, I remember him. It was his ‘initiation.’” Chris shook his head, but motioned for Jackson to continue.

“That’s basically it,” Jackson said with a shrug. “After some time, Derek realized I could feel his emotions and has been teaching me since.”

“What?” Chris frowned and stared at Jackson. “Non-existents don’t feel anything – ever. And while you don’t feel pain, that could be from the kanima. You don’t have the eyes of a non-existent.”

“I don’t feel anything touching me, either. Unless it’s Derek.”

“Okay, too much in…” Chris had held his hand up to stop Jackson from going on, but it started to roll around, as though forcing his brain to work. “Is Derek your mate?”

“I don’t know what that is or what it means. Derek agreed with Deaton when it was mentioned.”

“Okay,” Chris breathed as he stood up. “I’m going to say this. You _might_ have started the process of being a non-existent, but Derek was able to stop the cycle. When was the last time you slept?”

“Last night,” Jackson answered, feeling a tingle in his body. He was finally getting answers.

“Non-existents don’t sleep. They stay awake, until they just…shut down. And that takes _years_ to happen.”

“I don’t need to sleep,” Jackson said. “I wanted to.”

“Oh, okay. That makes things easier.” Chris grabbed a large tome and dropped it onto the table.

“Dad?” Allison called from the kitchen. “Why is there blood in the front hall?”

“I shot Jackson, honey,” Chris called back and opened the book.

Allison ran down the stairs. “You did _what_?” Her eyes widened when she saw Jackson standing there. “Are those scars? Werewolves don’t scar.”

Chris stared at Jackson and frowned. “I didn’t even think of that. What are those from, anyway?”

Jackson touched his throat. “Derek’s claws.” His hand dropped to the jagged scar on his chest. “A table leg.” He pointed out all the scars that Stiles gave him and what equipment did it. He held up his arm, showing the bite mark. “Me.” He held out his hand. “Also me.”

“Why did you bite yourself?” Allison asked, taking Jackson’s arm and looking at the scar from his teeth.

“Isaac was poisoned by an alpha. My blood heals.”

Chris stared at Jackson. “Fuck, you _are_ a non-existent.” He finished his coffee and shook his head.

“He’s a what?”

“He’s a non-existent that’s mated to a werewolf,” Chris explained and glanced down at the book he had pulled. “This is the first time I’ve heard about one having a mate. As far as I was aware, they were just searching for a place to belong.”

“Dad, Jackson isn’t a…whatever,” Allison said as she stood beside Jackson and placed a hand on his shoulder. “So, he’s a little cold, but that could be a side-effect of the kanima.”

Chris shook his head. “From what little I heard from Derek, Jackson had no side-effects.” He frowned. “I probably should’ve realized something was wrong when I stopped hearing from him.” He pursed his lips a moment, staring at Jackson. “Has anyone shot you in the head?”

“Yes, Stiles did. I’ve also stabbed myself in the ear.” Jackson could feel Allison’s shocked eyes on him. “I had to know if I could die.”

Chris opened his mouth, but frowned and shook his head. “I don’t know what to say to that. But it doesn’t matter. Did anything happen after Stiles shot you?”

Jackson frowned and lowered his eyes. It wasn’t long after that that he began feeling warmth whenever Derek touched him. “I could feel Derek’s warmth,” he said and looked up.

“That’s so cute,” Allison said and hugged Jackson. “I can’t wait to tell Lydia.”

“Moving on,” Chris said as he walked around the table and rested against it. “You’re not a typical non-existent, Jackson. I know you were born after your parents were dead. That’s the only typical thing about you. But,” he added forcefully when Jackson frowned. “I think you became this way, so you would feel strong enough to stand by Derek’s side as his mate.”

Jackson felt that tickle in his stomach again and laughed. “This began, long before I even knew Derek had marked me,” he said as he calmed down, surprised he found it funny. He wiped the tears from his eyes. “Why would I want to be stronger for someone I didn’t even realize I was attracted to?”

“Jackson,” Allison said softly. “You’ve always been attracted to power. You would’ve become his second-in-command, somehow. Either through sex or brute force.”

“I could do that now,” Jackson stated with a shrug.

“That’s what we’re saying,” Chris said. “You didn’t want to use those methods, so something in your mind clicked. Are you telling me you’ve never thought of you, now, as the best version of yourself?”

Jackson opened his mouth to disagree, but closed it and frowned. He had thought that about himself and he still did. He was able to protect Derek and Derek’s pack. He hadn’t even thought about being close to Derek, hadn’t felt anything when they were close for the first week. After that, he definitely felt nothing whenever Derek was near him, aside from that tingle in his neck.

“Now, you were saying that Derek began feeding you his emotions?” Chris asked, taking Jackson’s silence as confirmation.

“Yes.”

“He isn’t feeding you his emotions now, is he?”

Jackson shook his head. “I’m starting to learn them on my own.”

“Based off of Derek’s emotions?” Jackson nodded. “Somewhere along the line, you realized that being emotionless isn’t the same as being strong.”

“I don’t understand.”

Allison smiled. “What he means is that you get your strength from Derek. When your emotions unite, you become stronger than you’ve ever been. Both of you do. And that’s good for an alpha.”

Chris ran his eyes over Jackson’s body, staring at his bare feet. “And you feel nothing from killing an alpha?”

“No. Not from either of them.”

Allison’s eyebrows went up. “You killed two alphas?”

“Technically, Derek got the final kill on one of them, but she was injured because of me,” Jackson said.

Chris stared at Jackson. “Why do they want the old you back?”

“Dad,” Allison snapped with a glare. “The old Jackson is much better than an emotionless machine, bent on killing everything until he feels at peace.”

Jackson frowned and tilted his head. “At what?”

“At peace,” Allison replied and shock settled on her face. “You…I thought Scott and Stiles were joking when they said emotions and expressions were a foreign concept to you recently.”

“It would’ve been nice to hear it before now,” Chris said with a sharp glance at Allison. “I could’ve killed him before he became an alpha.”

“I’m not an alpha,” Jackson said.

“You killed an alpha,” Allison said, moving to look into his eyes.

Jackson let his eyes sparkle blue for a moment. “I’m not an alpha.”

“You didn’t want it, huh?” Chris asked, reaching for his coffee mug. He sighed dejectedly, forgetting that it was empty. He turned his eyes to Allison. “It’s rare, but when they kill an alpha, they can reject the powers. Most werewolves are too concerned with getting extra power that they don’t even consider turning it down.”

“But Jackson did?”

“I didn’t want or need it. I killed an alpha without teeth or claws,” Jackson said, feeling a small spark of pride.

Chris raised an eyebrow. “Well, I’m glad I could be woken up at the crack of dawn by you, Jackson,” he said and stretched. “But I’ve got to get things done. Sheriff told me that someone’s gone missing while they were out jogging a couple of nights ago.”

Jackson frowned and lowered his eyes, opening all senses. He hadn’t felt a threat since the pack left, but he didn’t know he needed to feel for it. As he tried to get anything, he realized that Derek was waking up and was worried that Jackson wasn’t in the bed.

Coming back to himself and shutting down his senses, Jackson looked at Chris. “I don’t feel anything. But if it’s anything supernatural, it isn’t a threat to the alpha or the alpha’s pack. I have to get back to the loft.”

Allison called a goodbye, but Jackson didn’t have time to say anything back. He ran out of the house and made his way back to the loft, just as everyone else was sitting down for breakfast. The werewolves froze and stared at him, their noses wrinkling.

“You saw the Argents, huh?” Peter asked and Isaac growled, his nose twitching.

Jackson recognized the growl and tilted his head. “She hugged me. I didn’t touch her.”

Derek came out of his bedroom, faltering slightly when he caught the scents on Jackson. “You went to the Argents without me? You can’t trust them, Jackson.”

Jackson stared at Derek for a moment, before he shouted, “ _What_ is that trust thing you keep saying?”

Derek’s eyes widened a moment, before they narrowed and he advanced on Jackson, eyes burning red. Jackson felt a spike in his stomach, but he stood his ground. If Derek wanted to put him in his place, he would have a hard time doing it. The claws came out and Jackson frowned, looking into Derek’s eyes. He would never hurt him.

“ _That_ is trust.” Derek stopped and gestured around. “You don’t have to stay here, but you do. You know we can’t track you, but you stay here. You show off your scars, because you trust us not to mention—And where did that one come from?” Derek demanded, pointing to the scar on Jackson’s left shoulder.

“Chris Argent shot me,” Jackson said with a shrug. The look of shock on Derek’s face made him laugh. “He had to make sure I was a non-existent.”

Derek glared. “You’re not a non-existent. You’re a werewolf, in _my_ pack.”

Jackson’s eyes half-closed as a shudder ran down his spine, starting from his neck. Blinking, Jackson stared at Derek. “Okay, just…calm down.” He rolled his left shoulder. “I figured if the journal Peter stole—”

“Borrowed,” Peter muttered into his coffee mug.

“Have you returned it?” Peter remained silent. “The journal he stole was from the Argents, they should know about non-existents.” Jackson shrugged and frowned as his left shoulder seemed tight. He massaged the muscle.

Derek shook his head and pulled Jackson closer. “You know you can’t feel that,” he muttered, working the shoulder. “What did the Argent have to say?”

“Basically, I was actually a born non-existent, but I forced myself not to believe that. It wasn’t until I became a werewolf that I tried – _tried_ – to make myself stronger, to stand beside you,” Jackson explained, biting the inside of his lower lip as the muscle was loosened.

“Mmm,” Peter hummed. “That makes sense. The wolf would have recognized Derek as your mate.”

“So I became the best version of myself, which meant becoming a non-existent. I guess it was only natural after being the kanima.” Jackson glanced at Derek’s face. The alpha’s expression was neutral. “Apparently, non-existents search for a place to belong. If they don’t find it, they just shut down after years of searching.”

“Ah, pups, I’m taking you out for breakfast,” Peter said, his chair sliding along the floor. “Up-up-up.”

“No,” Erica said. “I want to hear this.”

“I’m curious, too,” Boyd said with a shrug.

“We all want answers, old man,” Isaac said, rather boldly for him. “So, sit down, shut up and enjoy the show.”

“There’s not much else to say,” Jackson said, looking over Derek’s shoulder. “Everyone keeps saying my place is here, in this pack. I don’t need to search for it.”

“But you don’t feel like you belong here,” Derek said quietly, his hands stopping. He ran his fingers over the scar on the shoulder.

“Then let me train with you. I’ll even pretend to feel pain and I’ll keep my strength down. I need _something_ to do. Staring out a window is now creepy to me.” Jackson pointed to the one spot he believed was his in the entire loft.

“Yeah, I think you’re picking up on my feelings there,” Erica said, pouring cereal into a bowl. “It’ll never not be creepy to see you standing there.”

“Not sure that’s how it works, but okay,” Jackson said and shrugged, stepping back from Derek and rubbing the scar.

“As for training, you can join us today. But you had better not break any of them,” Derek warned and went to the table.

“Okay. I can just break you, then.” Jackson grinned when Derek glared at him. He didn’t know why, but it was amusing to see how he could rile up the alpha.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it.
> 
> Aria_Slytherin12thGen: Thanks for the comment. And yes, I completely agree. Someone was super thick during the previous chapter. Anyways, I hope you liked this one, as well.
> 
> Until the next one.
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	9. First Kiss

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

First Kiss

Less than an hour later, Jackson was with the others in the basement. Erica was cracking her knuckles, grinning at him as her eyes flashed gold. Jackson assumed she was looking forward to beating him down again and that was something Jackson could live with.

As their claws made near-misses, Jackson grinned. It felt fun to move like that. It felt nice to be like them. It felt freeing to move with speed, dodging attacks and dealing them out. Erica had become swifter since the last time Jackson sparred with her. She was nearly as fast as him.

Jackson knew his speed would only increase when he became a werewolf and it was something he used to pride himself on. Derek worked with Isaac, while Peter and Boyd had fun swinging at each other. Jackson was thrown to the ground, rolling to a stop at the stone stairs. He was on his feet in an instant and his punch knocked Erica down.

Growling, her eyes flashing playfully, Erica tried to sweep his feet out from under him. Jackson stepped over them and easily lifted her to her feet. He grinned as she nodded her head appreciatively and then gave him a punch to the gut. Jackson groaned and dropped to his knees, arms wrapped around his abdomen.

Derek growled and shoved Erica out of the way. Jackson could feel blood filling his mouth and pulled away from Derek’s hands. He staggered to his feet, vaguely hearing Erica apologize as Derek roared to know what happened.

“I didn’t hit him that hard! I swear, Derek. It was a love tap. Jackson, I’m sorry.” She tried to help him, but dropped to the ground as Derek roared at her, submitting to her alpha.

Jackson stumbled over to the stairs and leaned on the railing heavily as he went up. He felt arms around him and glared at Derek, shoving him away. He could get up to the loft alone. He needed to be alone. His head pounded in time to his erratic heart. His body trembled as pain coursed through him and he tried not to vomit from the taste of blood in his mouth.

Derek’s hands were on him again and Jackson shoved him off, eyes sparkling blue. Derek seemed to understand and stood back, watching him make his unstable ascent of the stairs. Just when he thought he could relax, Jackson remembered there was another flight of stairs to climb. He went to start up it, but hesitated. There was a chill running down his spine, which he felt over the heat the pain was erupting over him. The last time he felt that chill was when the other pack was in town.

Jackson strained his ears. He could hear Derek barking out orders in the basement. There was someone walking a couple of dogs. Another was jogging. There was something creeping near the jogger. There was a scream of surprise and Jackson spun to the door, ready to run out of it. But the scream became a laugh and the words spoken were warm. Frowning, Jackson turned and climbed the stairs to the loft.

Once inside, he went to the shared bathroom and spat the blood out of his mouth into the toilet. He had forgotten to ask Chris about that and he was starting to regret it. There wasn’t anything he could do about it, though. He flushed the toilet and washed out his mouth, probably using way more mouthwash than was necessary. He didn’t need any of them smelling the blood on his breath, though.

Looking down his torso, Jackson frowned when he saw a bruise there. His eyes widened and he went to Derek’s room, opening his suitcase. He pulled a hoody on and zipped it up, pulling the sleeves over his hands as he went to his ususal spot. He stared out the window, trying to keep his emotions under control.

The pain radiating from his abdomen made standing for more than a few minutes impossible. Sitting down made it almost bearable, but he didn’t want to sit. He wanted to stand and think. He didn’t want to sit down and try to force pain away. Eventually, he made his way into Derek’s room and laid on his back. The pain eased and Jackson closed his eyes, making sure his abdomen was covered.

A couple of hours later, the four betas crawled up the stairs and collapsed in the living area. All of them still felt the pain from where their alpha showed his dominance. They groaned and Erica was the first into the bedroom. She stared down at Jackson. Opening his eyes, Jackson stared at her and she breathed a sigh of relief.

Erica came to the side of the bed and knelt down. She had her eyes lowered and Jackson could feel her trying to get up the strength. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly and looked up. “I didn’t…I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

Jackson raised a hand and placed it on her head. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“I hurt my alpha’s mate.”

“No, you didn’t. The alpha’s mate hurt himself for letting you get that cheap shot in.”

Erica raised her head and Jackson’s fingers gently brushed her cheek as his hand fell. She smirked and then laughed. She stretched over and hugged Jackson as much as she could. Jackson knew he would need to talk to Derek about treating the betas better.

“I hope you feel better soon,” she whispered and pulled back, joining the others in the living space.

_So do I,_ Jackson thought miserably and felt warmth coming from Derek. His eyes widened and he sat up, staring at Derek. Some emotion was running through him that made him forget about the pain of his abdomen. Something that made him want to dash from the room.

Derek frowned as he stepped into the room and Jackson had one foot on the floor, ready to bolt either way. “I haven’t smelled fear on you for a long time.”

“That’s what this is?” Jackson looked at his trembling hands. He tried to breathe and found that was difficult. “Is that why I can’t breathe? Why does it feel like the walls are closing in on me?”

Jackson groaned and doubled over, trying to breathe, trying to ignore the pain in him and trying to calm his frantic heart. When he felt Derek’s hand on his back, he snarled and swiped at him, claws splashing the alpha’s blood onto the floor. Realization took over for a moment, before the pain doubled and Jackson screamed, burying his face into the covers of Derek’s bed.

Through the blood pounding in his ears, Jackson could hear Derek demanding to know what was happening. From a distance, he heard Peter’s voice saying he didn’t know. Jackson was existing within that body and he didn’t know what was happening to him. That hand was on him again and the anger spiked, dulling the pain long enough for him to wrap a hand around Derek’s throat and throw him into a wall.

“I don’t think he wants you touching him,” Isaac said, helping his alpha to his feet.

Jackson buried his face into the covers again, screaming as the pain, somehow, managed to get worse. Everything in his abdomen was cramping and almost shuddering. He heard Derek snap at one of them to get Deaton. Jackson hunched up as much as possible, trying to alleviate some of the agony.

Jackson’s eyes widened as he stared at the covers. He couldn’t see them, though. He was seeing something else, a cave somewhere. He could feel the cold on the body and see a figure lumbering towards him. Fear ripped through him and he looked up, his hands were chained above his head. The figure was closer and the stench of rotting meat clung to the damp, chilled air. There was a growl.

Clawed hands scratched him and Jackson realized it wasn’t him. He was in Derek’s loft, on Derek’s bed. But he could feel each tear of the skin. He screamed as the hand went into the abdomen, pulling out the intestines, which were discarded. It didn’t want those.

“You’re killing her!” Jackson shouted, another pained scream ripping from his mouth as he felt the liver being picked out. The body twitched and Jackson fell into an abyss.

* * *

Jackson forced his eyes to open. Night had fallen and he was placed under the covers of the bed. He sat up and groaned at the pain from his abdomen. He moved onto his knees and winced as a lamp was turned on. Derek stood beside the bed, glaring down at him.

“A week,” Derek said, claws digging into his palms.

“What?” Jackson asked groggily, trying to understand why he felt like he just went ten rounds of bare-knuckle boxing with a bear.

“Scott told Deaton that you were feeling pain for a week,” Derek stated the anger leaving his body. Jackson felt nothing from the link. “Then you showed up at his house this morning, spitting up blood.”

“That…” Jackson frowned, swaying as he looked up at Derek. “That was this morning?”

“Yes,” Derek snapped, the anger returning to his eyes.

“Maybe…” Jackson mumbled as he struggled to move his limbs. He had to find that cave. As he straightened out to slip off the bed, he crumpled into a heap, curling into himself. “Maybe…”

“Maybe what?”

“Her…she…the pain…every…thing…”

Gritting his teeth, Jackson tried to crawl off the bed. He would slide to that cave if he had to. He couldn’t let her stay in there, in that tomb without anyone knowing where she was. The problem was, he didn’t know where she was, either. He just knew it was cave-like.

Staring at the window, Jackson tried to find her. He tried desperately to see through her eyes again, even if it meant the pain. He needed to know if she was alive, in agony, but still alive. He found nothing. There was nothing there. No one was trying to get free. He had failed.

Warmth wrapped around him and it was like a light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Opening his eyes, he realized he was laying on Derek’s legs. They were on the floor, but he was on Derek and Derek was that warmth. He couldn’t stop shaking. No matter what he did, he couldn’t stop his body from trembling.

His mind felt clearer, though. He could feel Derek’s fingers running through his hair. He could smell Derek. Somehow, he knew a day had passed. Derek wasn’t angry with him anymore and he had no idea how he got off the bed.

“The floor?” Jackson asked.

“You were trying to crawl out of the room. This was the middle-road I found.” Derek’s fingers ran down Jackson’s back, hot and heavy over the hoody. “Why didn’t you tell me about the pain?”

Jackson pulled away from Derek, sitting with his back to the bed. He gazed at him calmly. “I wanted to handle it on my own. You were having trouble, after killing another alpha. The blood scared me, so I asked Scott.”

“He told me you were going to see the Argents about it,” Derek said and Jackson shrugged.

“I was more concerned about learning what a non-existent was.” Jackson frowned and looked at his hands. “I can’t even feel my own hands on my body, Derek. Half the time, I don’t even know if I’m real.” Derek went to move forward and Jackson knew it was an instinct, to protect and soothe. But that didn’t stop him glaring at the alpha, who sat back. “No,” he said.

Derek nodded and swallowed, crossing his legs. “You’re punishing me, aren’t you?”

“Yes. What Erica did to me was done during training,” Jackson said, his eyes hardening. “You can’t punish them just because I’m your mate. You’ve got to realize that if something bad happens and we’re called out to fight, I _will_ be hurt. It wasn’t her fault. Say it.”

Derek glared at the floor and was silent for a few long moments, before he huffed. “It wasn’t her fault.”

“Thank you!” Erica said from her room and they heard a lamp turn off.

Derek got up and turned on the overhead light. He pulled Jackson to his feet and unzipped the hoody, staring at the bruise that took up his entire abdomen. “Now, it’s your turn,” he said softly.

Jackson swallowed. “I can’t…” He frowned when Derek growled in warning. “Explain it,” he snapped. “I don’t know what happened or how it happened. I…I was talking to Erica, telling her she got me with a cheap shot. The next thing I know, there’s pain. So much pain.” Pulling back, Jackson began pacing. “And the fear. She was so scared.”

“You mentioned someone killing her,” Derek said, placing a hand on Jackson’s shoulder.

“I don’t understand it,” Jackson said and sighed, sinking onto the bed. He felt exhausted. “I don’t sense any kind of threat.”

“The only time you felt a threat was with that pack and that’s because they were, to…” Derek stumbled over his words for a moment. “…the alpha and the alpha’s pack.” He stuck his tongue out, like there was a foul taste on it.

Jackson noticed. “So, whatever killed her, isn’t threatening you or your pack.” He rubbed his eyes and then his neck.

“Dick move, bro,” Isaac said from his room. “You know you’re part of the pack.”

Jackson chuckled and winced, holding his abdomen. He stood up, leaning heavily on a post for the bed. “I felt it,” he said and looked at Derek, who was keeping his distance. “I felt… _everything_. I felt its claws digging in my guts, ripping my intestines—”

“Jesus Christ, we get it! You felt it,” Isaac stated and Jackson heard him shudder in disgust.

“I felt her fear. I felt her desperate desire to _escape_.” Jackson winced and closed his eyes. He pursed his lips, wanting to say the words, but knew that once they were out, he couldn’t take them back. Saying the words made it real, like she couldn’t be saved.. “I felt her…” He was shaking again. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Hmm, sounds like it does,” Derek said simply. “So why her? Why did you feel her so clearly?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe because my life hasn’t been fucked up enough lately,” Jackson snapped and glared at Derek. “I’m sorry she was in pain. I’m sure that was _so_ difficult for _you_.”

“It was, actually,” Derek said, his eyes flashing red. “ _You_ were in pain.”

“Oh, get off it, Hale. I’m not in the mood for your possessive bullshit.” Jackson doubled over, closing his eyes as the pain started. He could feel blood trickling into his mouth.

“Looks like that’s exactly what you need,” Peter said from the doorway, eating an apple. He smirked when Jackson glared at him. “Take it from me, pup. You need your mate, more than you think.”

Jackson wiped his mouth, removing the blood. “What _are_ you talking about?”

Peter’s eyes went to Derek and saw something that made him shrug. “Don’t push away those that care about you,” he said eventually and took another bite of the apple, grinning as he disappeared from the doorway.

“You should get some more sleep,” Derek said as he went to the door. “I’ll keep watch tonight.”

“No, I need to patrol,” Jackson said and forced himself upright. He sank to his knees, his claws digging into the wood of the bed.

“Scott and Boyd are patrolling tonight,” Derek told him and flipped off the overhead light. “Go to bed.”

Jackson glared at Derek’s back, unable to believe him. He would go to bed, if he could move without feeling like he was being stabbed by thirty-four hundred knives in his stomach. Instead of saying that, Jackson just stayed where he was and closed his eyes. He could only hope that he would feel better in the morning.

* * *

Jackson opened his eyes, staring at the floor of the bedroom. He got to his feet when he heard only one heartbeat in the loft. He found Derek on the sofa, reading _A Christmas Carol_. He had no idea where the others were, but he didn’t want to be in there. He knew he should be out looking for the cave.

“Not even a ‘good morning,’ then?” Derek asked as Jackson opened the door.

“Stroke your own ego,” Jackson snapped and glared over his shoulder. “There’s a girl out there that’s in trouble.”

“She’s dead, Jackson,” Derek said and went back to his book.

“You don’t know that.”

Derek tossed the newspaper to him and Jackson saw the headline: Highschool Student Found Dead. Frowning, Jackson read the story. He didn’t know her, but when he saw the picture, he knew it was her. She was fifteen, barely two years younger than he was.

Jackson felt his anger boil over, his claws tearing the newspaper. He threw it down. “Fuck!” Turning, Jackson walked out of the loft. He growled when he was caught around the waist. “Fuck off, Derek!”

“No. You’re not doing anything stupid.”

Jackson snarled and turned, wrapping his hand around Derek’s throat and throwing him onto the ground. Derek easily shoved him back and his back met a wall. Derek’s eyes were red and Jackson knew his were blue, glaring at the jerk that wouldn’t let him run off some frustration.

“Enough,” Derek said gently, the red dying.

Jackson swallowed thickly and felt the anger slowly leave his body. He lowered his head, trying to hide the tears, forgetting that Derek could smell them and the sadness surrounding him. “It was her,” he mumbled, biting his lower lip to stop it quivering.

“I’m sorry, Jackson,” Derek said and Jackson let the arms wrap around him. “I’m sorry.”

Jackson nodded and pulled back, letting Derek’s hands slide to his hips. He wiped his eyes with the sleeves of the hoody, not caring that he smeared the blood on the left side over it. He stared down at the floor, tightening his jaw, trying to force the lump in his throat down and release the tightness in his chest.

“I wanna go to her funeral,” Jackson said and looked up. Derek frowned down at him. “I could at least say sorry to her, before she’s buried.”

Jackson knew Derek didn’t understand, knew he could never understand. Just as Jackson knew he wouldn’t understand if Derek had been one to feel her last moments alive. The tightness in his chest worsened and he pressed his forehead to Derek’s chest.

“I’ll go with you,” Derek murmured, kissing the top of Jackson’s head.

“Thank you.”

“But after that, we need to talk.”

“Okay.”

“And what did I say about that word?”

“I’m sorry.” Jackson pulled back and wiped his eyes again. “I hate emotions. I hate what they do. And I fucking _loathe_ feeling.”

Shaking his head, Jackson unzipped the hoody, going to Derek’s bedroom. He ignored the comfort Derek tried sending him. His life had been nothing but hell for the last two months. The four months before that had been great. He didn’t feel and he didn’t have emotions. Now, he had to feel some poor girl’s fear, pain and mental anguish as she’s carved up by a monster.

Under the spray of the shower, Jackson let his head hang and he let the tears slip out. _I should have done_ something, he kept telling himself, even though there was nothing he could do. The pain he felt had him crippled and unable to think, let alone act.

Eyes hardening, Jackson straightened and washed. He needed a suit for the funeral. He had plenty at home, but then his mind went to his parents. He closed his eyes and hung his head again. “Fuck,” he whispered.

Turning off the shower, Jackson stepped out and wrapped a towel around his hips, ignoring Derek, who was staring down at the floor, resting against the counter. He dried off in the bedroom and dressed in jeans and a long-sleeved v-neck. He placed a hand over his abdomen and snatched it away as the pain began spreading.

Shaking his head, he left the bedroom and stood in front of his window, staring down at the pavement. He winced, gritting his teeth. The funeral was being held the day after tomorrow, giving the mortician plenty of time to fix her up. Still, he knew it would be a closed casket event.

Jackson growled quietly when Derek stood beside him. “Why aren’t you with the others?”

Derek looked at Jackson blankly. “I have them trying to trail her scent. I wasn’t leaving you alone here, so you could run off and get hurt.”

“I don’t need you babysitting me,” Jackson grounded out, resting a hand on the wall. “I just need time to think without this…god forsaken pain!”

Derek’s shoulders shook for a moment, before he crossed his arms and glared out the window. After a few minutes, he grabbed Jackson’s shoulders and pressed their lips together. Jackson stared at Derek, eyes wide and shoulders impossibly tensed as he realized what was happening.

“The Stone Eagle cave!” Jackson declared as he pulled back from Derek. “I _knew_ I’d seen that cave before.”

Jackson went into the bedroom and pulled on his shoes, jogging out to the living area. Derek turned to him, trying to keep his face blank. “That’s what you were thinking about? I kiss you for the first time and you’re thinking about where some girl was murdered?”

Tilting his head, Jackson frowned. “What else would I be thinking about?”

“ _Me_ ,” Derek growled.

“I think about you all the time, Derek,” Jackson said and took a step back when Derek glared at him. “I don’t… I don’t know what to say here.”

Derek closed his eyes and let the tension out of his shoulders. “You don’t have to say anything, Jackson,” he said and sighed. “I know you think about me. But you don’t think about me the same way I think about you.”

Jackson’s eyes widened when he felt some emotion slither into him. It released warmth and made his entire body tingle. He stared at Derek and found he _needed_ the alpha on him, in him, around him. It made his knees weak as Derek’s eyes trailed over his body. There was a need to hold him, a need to soothe and protect him. Jackson doubted he would ever understand it.

But when Derek stepped towards him, Jackson stepped back and slammed the link shut. “What the flying fuck was that?!” he demanded, his heart still racing in his chest as the feelings lingered.

“Lust, love and our wolves meeting in the middle,” Derek explained with a shrug. “It came out too strongly and I’m sorry.”

Jackson’s hands shook as he used the wall to keep him steady. He still couldn’t fully feel his knees. “You feel _all_ of that when you look at me?”

“You don’t know love, lust or desire,” Derek said and pulled out his cell phone. “You said it was the Stone Eagle cave?”

“Y-Yeah. It’s…um…” Jackson shook his head, trying to clear it.

“It’s okay, I’ve stopped sending those through,” Derek said, his thumbs tapping on the screen.

“Doesn’t mean it isn’t lingering,” Jackson muttered and closed his eyes, tilting his head back. Inhaling deeply, he leveled his head and found Derek staring at him. “It’s twenty minutes from the boarder of the town. We used to party there a few years ago.”

Derek’s eyes dropped to Jackson’s throat for a moment, before he nodded and sent the text. “You should probably think about getting a suit from home to attend the funeral,” Derek said and left the loft when his phone chimed.

“Go to hell. I’m coming with you.”

Derek looked at Jackson’s abdomen and shook his head. “No, you’re not. I can’t have you going into a fit of pain if the thing shows up.”

“Try and stop me,” Jackson said, pushing off the wall, striding up to Derek. “I know what it looks and smells like.”

Derek ran his fingertips along Jackson’s hairline, his eyes soft. “And that’s why you’re going to be here with Stiles, researching.”

Jackson clenched his jaw as Derek’s thumb ran over his lips. He wanted to argue the point, but he also knew Derek was right, which just infuriated him. He lowered his eyes and stepped back, nodding. Finding out whatever it was and how to stop it was better than doing nothing.

“There’s a room on the ground floor that has materials you can start reading,” Derek said softly and left.

* * *

Jackson and Stiles found the room Derek was talking about. There were dozens of boxes, all filled with papers and books on everything Derek could think of, apparently. There were demons, angels, spirits, Native American, Irish, Welsh, Japanese, Australian and Russian folklore and fairies. Jackson couldn’t believe how much there was and not _one_ of the boxes had anything written on it.

After hours of searching through the boxes, the others returned and helped out. Jackson had tried explaining what the creature looked like, but he knew the smell more than anything. Cold, lifeless, rotting meat and fresh blood. That didn’t help them any, but Jackson knew if he ever smelled it again, he would recognize it.

Derek and Peter had joined them, while the others showered and had something to eat. Jackson stared at Stiles, who was typing furiously at a laptop. Jackson shook his head and stood behind him. “It works much better if you don’t slam your fingers on the keys,” he said.

“I’m used to a mechanical keyboard, sue me,” Stiles muttered, staring at the pictures of demons on some website. “Any of these look familiar?”

Jackson shook his head. “It wasn’t a demon,” he said. He went to say more, but glanced at Derek and closed his mouth.

He couldn’t explain that he felt a kinship with the creature. Over the girl’s fear and the pain, Jackson felt like he understood what it was doing. He didn’t agree with its motives, but he understood the loneliness and the wanting to be normal. There was something else that resonated deeply with Jackson, as well. The need to survive.

Running his tongue along his lower lip, Jackson frowned as he tasted something there. He wasn’t going to complain, as it tasted nice and left him yearning for more, but it was pushed to the back of his mind. He started rummaging through the boxes, trying to remember where he saw the book he needed.

Jackson froze as terror ripped through him. He spun around, staring at the door to the room. He winced as his wrists throbbed with pain. There was something on them that was too tight. His eyes widened when he saw the entrance to Stone Eagle cave.

The victim was male. Jackson’s heart thudded in his chest, desperation clawing at him as he tried to loosen the shackles that bound his arms above his head. He could hear it growing closer, an almost demonic growl being emitted. Jackson’s gut clenched in fear and the desperate struggle stopped.

It was in front of him, rotted teeth revealed through a snarl.

Jackson screamed as the pain surged through him, making him hyperaware of the coolness of the cave. This time, the creature didn’t rip out the innards and sift through them. Instead, he shoved claws into the chest and Jackson gasped, trying to breathe around the blood, trying in vain to get away from the pain.

And suddenly, his vision was filled with Derek’s face. Concerned hazel green eyes probing his, his voice soothing and comforting, slowly being heard. “Come back, Jackson.”

There was a snap and Jackson found himself on the floor of the room, surrounded by books. Derek was over him, staring into his eyes and wiping away the tears.

“It’s okay,” Derek murmured, running his fingers around Jackson’s ear. “Stilinski, there’s going to be another body tomorrow.”

Jackson shook his head, trying to get his throat to work. “No,” he croaked, not taking his eyes from Derek’s. “This one wasn’t food. Tonight.”

“I’ll let Dad know,” Stiles said, staring at Jackson. “Are you okay?”

Jackson blinked and pushed Derek away, sitting on the ground. “Of course. I’m fine.”

Stiles frowned. “I think it might be time to have another talking with Mister Hunter,” he said and pulled out his cell phone, leaving the room.

“You didn’t mention that it ate the body,” Derek said, gazing at Jackson.

“Sorry if I didn’t want to think about that.” Jackson flinched. “It took the liver and kidneys first. Then there was chunks of flesh taken, for its stores.”

Peter whistled, making Derek and Jackson look at him. He turned the book around, showing the page he was reading. “I think we’ve found our beastie.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it. If you did, drop a line or a kudos. Now, onto a word from our sponsor.
> 
> Reddy_no_1: I hope you're all settled now. Moving is such a hassle. Yes, things are getting slowly better. I'm kind of liking the direction I'm going with Jackson in this story. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as well. I love reading your comments.
> 
> Until the next one!
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	10. Lust

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Lust

Jackson snatched the book from Peter’s hand, reading the title. _Wendigo,_ he thought. He leaned over the table and grabbed the box he had sorted earlier into Native American folklore. Behind him, he heard Derek growl and glanced over his shoulder, raising an eyebrow.

Derek shook his head and Jackson shrugged, searching through the box. He’d found a book that was dedicated almost solely to the wendigo. He knew enough about it to know it was from Native American stories. His heart gave a triumphant thump as he grabbed the book and showed it to Derek and Peter, grinning.

“Damn, pup,” Peter said as he took the book. “You’re not—”

Jackson missed the rest of Peter’s words as blood pounded in his ears and he heard screams of terror. The wendigo was dragging the corpse past them, showing them what was going to happen to them. The man wasn’t healthy enough or young enough for the wendigo. The meat would foul too soon for its liking.

_Hey, hey._ Jackson lowered the hands he had placed over his ears and found Derek watching him. He shivered and rested his head on Derek’s chest as he was held, listening to his steady heart. He could hear Peter flipping through the pages of the book, while Stiles returned from telling his father about the likelihood of a corpse being dumped somewhere in town.

Jackson let Derek pull him out of the room and up the stairs. They entered the loft and the pack was instantly on their feet, staring at him. “There’s another victim,” he said and Erica growled. “We know what it is, at least.”

“What?” Isaac asked, his eyes filled with worry.

“A wendigo,” Jackson answered and slumped onto the sofa. He tilted his head back.

“A what?” Isaac’s face screwed up in confusion.

“This one’s yours, Derek. I’m just gonna go lay down and die somewhere.” Jackson stood and shuffled into the bedroom, falling face first onto the bed.

“It’s from Native American folklore,” Derek said as he sat at the table, after moving it so he could look straight into the bedroom. “It’s a story about someone that feasts on human flesh. They usually sleep for long periods of time, waking to eat and hunt.”

“How the hell did it end up here?” Boyd asked.

“It’s probably always been here,” Jackson muttered and turned his head. “Beacon Hills was likely a settlement at some stage. The wendigo was probably a prospector that had to survive a harsh winter.”

“Sounds like you feel sorry for it,” Derek said, looking at Jackson’s prone body.

“It’s a survivor. Its had to fight just to live. How could I not relate to it?”

“I thought you were meant to be dying in there?” Boyd asked and Jackson sat up when Derek roared at him.

“It was a joke,” Jackson said. He sighed and got off the bed, going up to the table. “Isaac, Erica, you’re on patrol tonight. It’s dumping the body as we talk. If you see it, do _not_ engage. We don’t know if it fancies werewolf flesh and we don’t want to find out, either. Follow at a safe distance, just to see if there’s another entrance to the cave its using.”

Erica and Isaac glanced at each other and then at their alpha. Derek nodded stiffly, still glaring at Boyd. They stood up, Erica kissing Boyd gently, offering some comfort from the alpha’s wrath.

“Boyd, I think you’ve got homework to finish, right?” Jackson asked and Boyd nodded, head down. “Go finish it.”

Without a glance at the alpha, Boyd stood and moved down the hallway. Once alone, Jackson snapped his fingers in Derek’s face. Derek blinked and the red eyes disappeared, looking at Jackson. He sat there, staring at him for a long while and Jackson sighed.

“Stop terrifying them,” Jackson said simply. “It isn’t fair on them.”

Derek stood up and pressed his lips to Jackson’s. “I’m sorry,” he murmured, peppering kisses along Jackson’s jaw and down his throat.

“I know. But you need to calm down. To them, I’m still a beta. They’re going to rib me and say things like that.” Jackson licked his lower lip, getting that taste again. It had to be Derek’s lips. “I’m going to bed. Help Peter find a way to kill it.”

Derek placed a final kiss on Jackson’s throat, inhaling deeply. “Okay,” he whispered.

Jackson waited until Derek was out of the loft, before he shuddered and leaned on the table for support. That felt much better than he thought it would. Once his heart calmed down, he went to Boyd’s door and was granted entry before he could knock.

“Are you okay?” Jackson asked, looking at the large bed and seeing that it was unmade.

“Yeah,” Boyd answered. “I guess it’s gonna take some getting used to…you giving orders, that is.”

“He was one breath from killing you.” Jackson placed a hand on Boyd’s shoulder and gave it a squeeze. He glanced at the homework. “The answer is eight, not twenty-four,” he said and left the room.

Once in Derek’s bedroom, Jackson stripped and pulled on some pajama bottoms. He got under the covers, gazing at the moon that was visible from Derek’s window. The full moon was getting closer.

* * *

Low murmuring made Jackson open his eyes. He heard Peter and Derek in the kitchen. Boyd was asleep and the alpha and his uncle were having a conversation. Jackson closed his eyes again. There was no reason to react and there was no threat around.

“I told you not to touch him,” Peter said and Jackson frowned, opening his eyes.

“He was in pain,” Derek hissed and Jackson knew he had a scowl on his face. “What was I supposed to do? Let my mate suffer?”

“Yes!” Peter growled and Jackson felt him look at the bedroom. “I like him, as well. He’s definitely gotten better with handling everything. He knew how to handle your betas tonight, while you tried to will one dead.”

Derek was on edge. Jackson could feel it, but he didn’t recognize what emotion it was from. There was a need to do something, but he didn’t know what.

“Could you have left your mate in pain?” Derek asked quietly and Jackson heard what sounded like the back of a chair straining under a grip.

“Touching him intimately will take away his pain, but it’ll increase your need for him,” Peter said softly and Jackson was certain he heard a touch of compassion in his voice.

“The need was always there.” Derek let out a low growl and Jackson felt something wash over him. He recognized it as one of the three things Derek sent out before.

“The need will _always_ be there.”

Jackson frowned as he felt eyes on him, but it wasn’t the usual curious or worry behind them. There was something almost…hungry about them. He fought to ignore a need that sped through his veins, as he was meant to be asleep.

“Jesus, Derek. Have a cold shower.”

Jackson closed his eyes as Derek approached the room. A lamp was turned on and Jackson turned his head, looking at Derek. “Everything okay?”

Derek nodded stiffly and pulled off his shirt. “Yeah, fine,” he growled and went into the bathroom, slamming the door.

Boyd half-woke at the sudden loud noise and Jackson glared at the door, getting out of bed. He went into the bathroom and turned Derek around. “Don’t wake the betas,” he snapped quietly. “He has school in the morning.”

Jackson frowned as Derek took hold of him and he didn’t feel warmth. He felt heat, a burning desire and his heartrate increased as he looked into Derek’s eyes. He pulled away, heart pounding as he tried to understand what Derek was going through. He didn’t know how to help him.

The heat was still swirling through his veins, pooling between his legs. The need to kiss Derek refused to leave his mind. He didn’t retreat as Derek approached him, eyes switching between alpha and human constantly, as though he had an internal battle happening. Jackson’s body ached for his touch.

The bathroom door opened and Peter grabbed Jackson, pulling him out of the room. “You’re sleeping in Isaac’s room,” he said and Jackson just nodded numbly.

“What was that?”

“His need to claim you,” Peter said as he shoved Jackson into Isaac’s room. “I’ll be standing guard.”

The door closed and Jackson let himself shiver and shudder, trying to push out the last, lingering heat in his body. His mind conjured images that he remembered, but there was a twist on them that made him shiver with delight. Derek cornering him in the locker room when he was still human. Derek scenting him had him particularly excited that his skin reacted.

Jackson pressed his back to the door and slid down, heart still racing in his chest. He inhaled deeply, catching Isaac’s scent and he calmed. The heat, need and desire finally left him and his body stopped trembling at the mere idea of Derek.

“Would mating get this over with?” Jackson asked, knowing Peter was on the other side.

“You can’t just fuck him, pup,” Peter answered. “The mating takes time. It’s about learning your mate, knowing every inch of their body, every shift in their scent, how your scent mixes with theirs.” He sighed quietly. “I’ve known it to take days for it to complete.”

They didn’t have days. Jackson needed to get a suit from home in the morning, so he could attend the dead girl’s funeral. Then they had to kill the wendigo, before Jackson felt any more victims being tortured and killed. He flinched and closed his eyes, covering his head with his arms. He couldn’t go through that again. He _wouldn’t_ go through that again.

“I’m not staying in here all night,” Jackson said and stood. He wasn’t going to wallow in self-pity when he could be reading up on wendigos and how to kill them. “We’re doing research.”

“No,” Peter said and Jackson was certain his jaw was clenched, just like Derek’s when he was saying something he didn’t agree with. “I can’t leave and you can’t leave the loft.”

“Why can’t I—?”

“Because Derek’s need to claim you has gotten worse. If I take you out of the loft, he’ll think I’m stealing you, kill me and then rape you. I’d rather not die again or have him do something he’ll regret for the rest of his life.”

Jackson growled. “Can you call Isaac then, so I can get the password for his laptop?”

“It’s ‘Allison,’” Peter said.

Jackson stared at the door. “Tell me you’re joking,” he said and tilted his head back.

“Nope. The kid is completely in love with her.”

Jackson shook his head and powered up the laptop. It was going to be a long night, but he still wasn’t feeling the effects of not sleeping. He discovered it was nice to sleep, but it wasn’t a necessity for him, for the moment.

* * *

The morning came and Derek left the loft as Erica and Isaac were returning. They tried to greet their alpha, but were completely ignored. Peter explained, as best as he could, keeping in mind that they were still only seventeen. Erica got it first and scoffed, brewing the coffee as that was Boyd’s alarm clock.

Isaac entered his room and found Jackson sitting at his desk, a notebook beside him with pages filled with notes. They glanced at each other and nodded, while Isaac got clean clothes and went into the bathroom. Jackson wrote down the last piece of information, powering down the laptop and leaving the room.

Erica was raiding the fridge and Jackson gave her a gentle nudge. He would happily cook her bacon for her, but he preferred when no one else was in the small area. He had a system when it came to feeding Derek’s pack. Erica was always the first to eat, if Derek wasn’t around. If the alpha was there, she would wait until he’s taken his first bite and then dig in, which meant her food needed to be up quickly. Isaac and Boyd ate at the same time. Peter didn’t give a damn, unless Derek was eating with them.

Jackson knew it was the pack dynamic at work, but it still left him curious. He cooked the bacon and eggs for Erica and got the box of Lucky Charms for Isaac, along with a bowl, milk and a glass of orange juice. Just as the coffee finished brewing, Boyd crawled out, his bathroom routine done, but still dead on his feet until the taste of coffee touched his tongue.

“Did you see the wendigo?” Jackson asked and Erica shook her head.

“We found the body, though. Oh, it was horrid.” She shuddered. “We couldn’t trace it, either. It’s almost like it cleaned up all the blood left behind.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jackson said and smiled at her. She glared at the table. “Hey, we know where it is.”

“Yeah and you had to be _tortured_ to find that out.” Erica sighed and sat back.

“Kissing Derek wasn’t _that_ bad,” Jackson said, plating up the eggs and bacon and putting it in front of Erica. She stared at him. “What?”

“You and Derek finally kissed, huh?” She smirked, salting her eggs. She froze and looked at Jackson sharply. “Wait. You kissed Derek and figured out where the victims were being held?”

Jackson shrugged, stacking the pan beside the sink. “It cleared my mind.”

Boyd had joined Erica in staring at Jackson. “You kissed Derek…and were thinking about a murder victim?” he asked slowly.

Jackson frowned. “Derek said the same thing.”

Boyd shook his head. “That must’ve been a blow to his ego. His mate wasn’t even thinking of him during their first kiss.”

“I know it was wrong, but…” Jackson winced as his stomach cramped and held onto the table. Blood dripped from his mouth. “Shit,” he groaned.

“Jackson,” Erica said, on her feet and standing beside him. She glanced at Boyd and he shook his head.

“I’m fine,” Jackson told them and straightened, slumping against the counter. He looked at his abdomen, seeing the bruise was back and it was practically black.

Peter came in from the bathroom and stared at Jackson. “Fuck.” His eyes dropped to the torso, the bruise spreading up to Jackson’s chest. “Fuck!”

Isaac came in and froze, staring at Jackson as well. “Jesus fuck!”

Peter ran to Derek’s bedroom and grabbed a shirt, shoving it over Jackson’s head. “Get him out of here – _now_!” he ordered and began wiping up Jackson’s blood. “Get him to Scott.” He scribbled something on a piece of paper and gave it to Erica. “Give that to him and then get back here.”

“Shouldn’t we get Derek?” Isaac asked as Peter wiped Jackson’s mouth.

“No. He can’t know about this.”

“Sage…” Jackson groaned. “Fire.”

Peter nodded. “Got it.”

“I think he needs Derek,” Boyd said as Jackson paled.

“He does need Derek,” Peter said, pushing Jackson into Erica’s arms. “But they can’t. Not now.” Boyd looked like he was about to argue. “We need to kill the wendigo before it takes another victim. If Jackson goes through that again, we might not get him back.”

After that, it was a flurry of movement, the seriousness of the words dawning on Derek’s betas. Jackson groaned as he was pulled from the loft, down the stairs and into the Camaro. Erica started the engine and tore away, almost crashing as the smell of Jackson’s blood hit her. She used his shirt to clean it up, not wanting Derek to get into his car and think she had hurt his mate.

Swerving back to her side of the road, Erica tried to remain calm. Her mind was focused on the bruise on Jackson’s torso that was spreading from the front to the back. She tried to remind herself that she wasn’t responsible for that, but the punch from the day before kept pushing forward in her mind. While she wasn’t overly fond of Jackson, he didn’t deserve to go through whatever that was.

Jackson’s breathing was labored as he looked at her with glassy eyes. “You didn’t do this,” he said in bursts, teeth clenched, trying to fight off the pain. “Just…” He trailed off and groaned, trying to curl up in the seat. “Watch his back…tonight.”

“We will,” Erica promised, turning up Scott’s street and slamming the brakes on in front of the house.

Scott, having heard the speeding car turn up his street, had stepped out to see what was going on. He frowned as Erica pulled Jackson from the passenger side and shoved a piece of paper into his chest, moving past him and into the house. _Hide him from Derek today. We’ll kill it and you can return him._ That raised more questions than it could possibly answer, but Scott turned and went inside, closing the door.

Erica was on the stairs, trying to be as gentle as possible with Jackson. Scott remembered the last time he saw Jackson that pale. Jackson had killed himself. He could hear a faint heartbeat from the non-existent, but nonetheless, he helped Erica carry him up the stairs and lay him on the bed. Jackson groaned and rolled over, curling into himself.

“What the hell happened?” Scott asked and Erica lowered her eyes. “The last time I saw him, he couldn’t feel pain. Now, he’s curling up like a child with an upset stomach. And _why_ am I hiding him from Derek? I think he needs Derek more—”

“Stiles told you about the wendigo, right?” Erica snapped and glared at Scott. He nodded. “Do you know how we found out about it? Jackson. He felt the wendigo ripping that girl apart. If that happens again, he might not survive it. We aren’t taking that chance.”

Scott frowned and looked down at Jackson. He thought they had researched it, after hearing about the body being found. “And the pain?”

“That’s none of your business,” Erica growled, her eyes flashing gold.

Jackson sat up, placing a hand on her shoulder. “It’s all right. I’m safe now. You can…”

Erica eased Jackson back to the bed and glared at Scott when he stared at her. “What?” she snapped. “He’s my alpha’s mate.”

Scott’s eyes dropped to Jackson. “There’s more that you’re not telling me.”

Erica glared and tapped her foot, arms crossed over her chest. She glanced at Jackson and he curled into himself more. “I don’t hate him, okay? And…I…think he’ll make a decent second-in-command,” she finally forced out, almost choking on the words. “He…He was commanding last night. I actually wanted to obey his orders without getting confirmation from Derek.”

“You think it’s from the alpha he killed?”

Erica shook her head. “No. I think he was picking up the slack Derek left. It was…” She trailed off and frowned. “It was like they were in sync.” She shook her head and sighed. “But we have to kill the wendigo, before it kills someone else.”

Scott nodded and grabbed his phone. “Stiles can watch Jackson, while we hunt it. Stone Eagle cave, right?” Erica nodded. “I used to walk through those caves a few years ago. Never noticed anything weird with it.”

Jackson groaned. “It probably…came here…searching…” he mumbled and forced his eyes open.

“Scott,” Melissa said as she knocked and entered. She froze when she saw Erica and her eyes widened when she saw Jackson. She rushed forward, placing a hand to his forehead. “He has a fever. Dilated pupils and a racing, weak pulse. What the hell is going on with him? Four months ago, he was the walking dead.”

“He’s learning to feel again. With that, he learns how to feel pain.” Erica placed a hand on Melissa’s shoulder. “There’s nothing we can do for him, right now. He needs his mate.” Melissa frowned and Erica pursed her lips. “But,” she added gruffly. “We need to kill a wendigo.”

“Stiles will be here in about fifteen minutes,” Scott said and locked his phone. “Mom, can you watch him?”

“Of course.” Melissa stood and hugged Scott tightly. “You come home, you hear. You walk through that front door.”

“I will, Mom. You think you could lose me that easily?” Scott grinned, hugging his mother as tightly as she was he. He glanced down and saw Jackson watching them, a small, genuine smile on his pained face. “We’ll fix you, too.”

The smile was gone and a glare settled on Jackson’s face. “I’m not broken,” he snapped, before wincing and curling into himself more.

Melissa released her son, ushering them out the door. She turned to Jackson and knelt beside the bed, stroking his hair. “Of course you aren’t, Jackson,” she murmured soothingly.

Jackson wanted to call her out on the lie he blatantly heard in her words, but the motherly touches were nice. He couldn’t remember the last time his own mother petted his hair when he was hurt. Sifting through the memories, Jackson realized he was seven the last time it happened. After that, he swore he would never show how hurt he was. His mother had wept when he broke his arm. His father held him tightly when telling him that he was adopted. But he had taken it all and tried to hide it.

_I really was a non-existent from the start,_ Jackson told himself and that hurt. That hurt more than he thought it would. He closed his eyes, wanting to sleep through the pain and ignore the fact that there were always signs to him being strange.

* * *

Jackson opened his eyes to find Deaton over him. The vet smiled and took the thermometer from his mouth, checking the number, before he nodded and stood. Behind him, Stiles was hopping anxiously from foot to foot, while Melissa tried to keep him calm. Looking over his shoulder, he found that it was sunset.

“They aren’t back, are they?” Jackson asked and turned his eyes to the faces in front of him. They were trying so hard not to look worried that Jackson felt sorry for them.

“No, but they’re getting closer,” Stiles answered and stood by the bed. “How are you feeling?”

“Like I was kicked in the gut by a thoroughbred hopped up on oats, having swallowed at least forty razorblades.” Stiles winced and Jackson smiled. He lost it and stared at Deaton. “What’s wrong with me?”

Deaton sighed softly. “Honestly, Jackson, where do I start? You being a non-existent, for one. You being a non-existent that’s mated to a werewolf, for another. Becoming the kanima didn’t help, either. There’s so much going on with your body and mind right now, that your wolf is trying to sort it all out. And for it to do that, you need to mate with Derek.”

Melissa’s eyes widened and she opened her mouth. “Don’t bring up the age thing, Missus McCall,” Jackson said as he struggled to sit up. He gave up after his second attempt and just stared at her. “I’m consenting to it. I need him.”

Pursing her lips, Melissa inhaled deeply. “You’re seventeen, Jackson. You can’t possibly know—”

“Why is it that adults always bring up that whenever a child does something they don’t want them to? If I told you that I wanted to be a doctor, you’d sing my praises. But telling you I want to be with a man that’s what, ten, possibly fifteen years older than me, suddenly has you telling me I don’t know what I want?”

Stiles cleared his throat. “He’s only about six years older than us,” he said and stepped away when Jackson and Melissa glared at him. “I’m just saying. It isn’t that much of an age gap.”

“He’s over twenty-one, while Jackson can’t even vote yet,” Melissa said firmly, keeping her eyes on Stiles.

“How sweet,” Jackson muttered. “I can die for my country at sixteen, but I can’t be with the man I want at seventeen?”

“You need to think about Derek, as well. If anyone finds out that he’s with you, sexually, he can be arrested and put away for statutory rape,” Melissa explained gently.

Deaton cleared his throat quietly. “He’s got less than a week left. If Derek doesn’t claim him, he becomes a full non-existent, which means he leaves and kills anyone in his path to finding his place. His wolf has given him a place, for the moment, but without them claiming the other as their mate, the wolf is dying. It should have happened within the first week of Jackson waking up as a werewolf. But the self-doubt won out and turned him into what he was born as – a non-existent.”

Melissa stared at Deaton, eyes searching for something. “Oh my god,” she whispered and sat on the bed. Jackson winced as the motion sent pain ratcheting over his body. “Oh, god, Jackson! I’m so sorry.” She sat up suddenly and Jackson just let the tears fall from his eyes.

“It’s fine…I’m good,” Jackson strained out. He looked at Deaton. “Take some of my blood.”

Deaton frowned. “Why?”

“The pack…wen…digo…”

Stiles nodded, somehow understanding Jackson in his pain, but never when he spoke clearly. “In case the wendigo can harm a werewolf,” he translated and Jackson closed his eyes.

“All right,” Deaton said and opened his bag. He put together a needle and slipped it into Jackson’s vein, drawing out the blood. “I hope it isn’t needed, but that’s good of you to consider it.”

There’s conversations about nothing happening around and Jackson opens his eyes. Stiles was explaining what a non-existent was to Melissa, who was listening carefully. She asked questions now and again, but mostly just let Stiles rant. There was a footfall outside the window and a pair of red eyes was the first thing Stiles and Melissa saw. The first thing Jackson smelled was smoke and sage. Underneath that, he could smell Derek.

Stiles shifted in the chair and glanced at Jackson on the bed. “There wasn’t anything we could do for him, except keep him comfortable. I mean, as much as possible in his condition.”

Jackson hissed as he was forced onto his back and glared into the red eyes of the alpha. The eyes dropped to his torso and the shirt was raised. A growl sounded. Before Jackson could say anything, Derek’s lips were pressing against his. Unlike the last time, he felt something thrill through him and he pushed into Derek’s mouth. The pain vanished and he could enjoy the feel and taste of the alpha he was mated to.

Melissa cleared her throat and Derek glared over his shoulder. “Don’t,” Jackson whispered and felt the wolf in Derek retreat. Sitting up, Jackson stretched his arms above his head and groaned. “The wendigo?”

“A pile of ash.”

“The other hostages?”

“Returned to the sheriff. I would’ve been here sooner, but I had to give a statement.” Derek ran his thumb along Jackson’s cheekbone. “I’m sorry I left you in pain.”

Jackson smiled and shook his head. “Don’t be. Saving the potential victims was more important.”

Derek wrapped his arms around Jackson, holding him tightly. Jackson’s eyes found Melissa and found how she was staring at them. He had no doubt she had heard the utter regret in Derek’s voice at leaving Jackson alone for a period of time, while in pain. Instead of telling her anything, Jackson just buried his face into Derek’s neck and inhaled deeply.

Scott was the next one through the window and glanced at the pair hugging on his bed. “Please, _please_ tell me they’ve only been hugging,” he said to his mother and Stiles.

“I think they kissed before,” Stiles said with a shrug. “Anyway, I think I should head off. So, the wendigo is definitely dead?”

“Unless it’s a non-existent, it isn’t coming back from those flames. Damn, they were bright.” Scott grinned.

Jackson pulled back from Derek, slipping off the bed. “Thank you for taking me in, Scott,” he said and slapped his shoulder. Jackson frowned as jealousy washed over him and found Derek glaring at Scott. “We’re going back to the loft.”

Derek’s eyes flitted to Jackson for a moment and Jackson hardened his eyes. Derek nodded and stood up. He mumbled a thanks to Scott and slipped out the window. “You know, our front door is perfectly functional,” Melissa called out to Derek.

Jackson smiled and left the bedroom, waiting in the hallway. “I’ll test this functional door, if you don’t mind, Missus McCall.”

Stiles chuckled and joined Jackson in the hallway, both calling their farewells as they went downstairs. Jackson opened the door and let Stiles through first. Derek was resting against his car, watching the door. His eyes flashed red for a moment, before he looked away and Jackson frowned. He wasn’t expecting that reaction.

“Thanks for watching over me,” Jackson said to Stiles as he walked the human to his jeep. “I get the feeling you would’ve preferred being in the cave with the others.”

Stiles grinned and went to hug Jackson, but froze as Jackson growled at him. Rubbing his neck, Jackson glared over his shoulder. He pulled Stiles in for a hug, turning them around so he could glare at Derek the entire time. Derek turned his eyes to the asphalt and Jackson released Stiles, thanking him again.

“Get in,” Derek said as Jackson stopped beside him.

“No, we need to talk.” Jackson stared at Derek. “You knew, didn’t you? You knew I had to be claimed and soon.”

“Yeah,” Derek breathed and tilted his head back.

Jackson stared at his throat, the urge to scent the alpha washing over him. Derek frowned and lowered his head. Jackson looked away from Derek’s curious eyes, glaring at the ground. A couple of kisses and he was practically drooling at the idea of scenting Derek, of having Derek’s scent in his nose and on his tongue.

“Don’t fight it,” Derek said. “I need my beta by my side. I _need_ my mate.”

“I would prefer to do this without an audience,” Jackson said and gestured around. Scott and Melissa were at the window, watching them. Stiles still hadn’t put the key in the ignition. “I want to scent you slowly. I want to know every inch of your body.” A tingle ran down his spine and it wasn’t from Derek.

“No,” Derek said after a short silence.

Jackson forced back a flinch, but nodded. “If the alpha has no objections, I’ll walk back to the loft.”

“ _Your_ alpha has an objection. I said no, because I can’t be in the car with you. Stilinski can take you home.”

Jackson went to Stiles’ jeep and climbed in, grateful they had an audience. His hands shook as he tried to buckle the seatbelt, something crashing over him. It got to the point that Stiles just stared at him, starting the vehicle. His heart was pounding in his chest and all he wanted was to run back to the loft and pin Derek to a wall, smelling and tasting him.

“I think someone just learned lust,” Stiles said with a grin and followed Derek back to the loft.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it. If you did, drop a kudos or a comment.
> 
> Aria_Slytherin12thGen: What kind of witch are you? Yes, you're right. You gets a brownie. =3 And yes, I completely agree. Feelings and emotions? Derek? That's just crazy. Thank you so much for your comment. It made my day. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well.
> 
> Until the next one!
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	11. Loyalty

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Loyalty

Stiles pulled up in front of the loft and Jackson jumped out, running up the stairs. Derek was in the shower and Jackson frowned when he saw a suit hanging up by the window. Peter had said that it could take days for them to mate. Jackson wanted to take his time and he didn’t want to miss the funeral, either.

Biting his lower lip, Jackson went into the bathroom and rested against the counter. He stared down at the floor, feeling Derek’s eyes on him. He didn’t know how to explain that a murdered girl was more important to him than the man that was meant to be his mate. It didn’t matter how he spun it in his head, it wasn’t good.

The shower turned off and Derek wrapped the towel around his waist, standing in front of Jackson. He ducked his head more as Derek placed his hands on his shoulders, making him shiver. How had he never felt that before? How had he never felt how good Derek felt and smelled?

“Derek,” Jackson started and looked up.

“I know,” Derek said, a smile dancing through his eyes. “But we can at least scent each other, which means you need a shower. You reek of Scott and Stiles.”

Jackson frowned and looked at Derek’s back as he left the bathroom. As far as he knew, no scents ever stuck to him. He smelled like nothing. Knowing that he had the scents of Scott and Stiles on him made his heart flutter. He inhaled deeply and caught it. Scott was particularly powerful in scent and Stiles reminded Jackson of pixie sticks.

Shaking his head, Jackson stripped and showered. He used the scentless soap Derek had, pausing when he heard the bedroom door close. He shrugged and finished showering, grabbing a towel. He dried off and stepped into the bedroom, using the towel to dry his hair.

Derek stood at the window, watching as the moon rose. “On the bed,” he said without turning.

Frowning, Jackson got on the bed, sitting cross-legged with his back to the wall. Derek turned and shook his head. He grabbed Jackson’s ankles and straightened his legs, pulling him down the bed. Jackson tilted his head, watching as Derek bent his left leg, hand running up his shin.

Derek leaned down, one hand still on Jackson’s leg while the other touched the scar on his abdomen from the arrow. Jackson fought to keep his heart normal and his scent neutral, despite hearing the howling of his wolf to let him out and let the lust take over. Derek’s hands were hot on his body, his touches precise, as though he knew where Jackson liked to be touched and how much pressure to apply.

Jackson couldn’t look away from Derek’s eyes, even if he wanted to. They held his as he sniffed along the knee, moving to the inside thigh of his left leg. For some reason, Jackson thought Derek was waiting for something, some kind of clue that Jackson wanted this. The longer he stared into Derek’s eyes, the faster his control was waning. He tried his hardest not to breathe, not to feel how good Derek’s hands felt on his skin.

Firm, warm lips kissed his knee and Jackson inhaled sharply, fisting the covers. Derek continued to hold his eyes as he turned his head. Jackson’s control broke, a moan slipping from his mouth as Derek’s hot tongue slid along his knee and to his thigh. The heat he was trying so desperately to hold back rushed through him and Derek smiled, pulling his tongue back and sniffing along the thigh.

Jackson inhaled shakily as Derek’s stubble grazed the sensitive skin of his inner thigh. He felt his eyes change and closed them, trying to will the wolf away. He couldn’t ruin Derek’s rather nice bedcovers, especially as Jackson knew how much Derek loved his Egyptian cotton sheets.

“Let your wolf run, Jackson,” Derek whispered against the thigh.

Jackson let a shudder run through his body at the warm breath on his skin. He opened his eyes and looked at Derek, knowing they were still glowing blue at the alpha. Derek murmured his approval against the thigh and the heat continued to pool in Jackson’s groin. He couldn’t remember the last time he got an erection, let alone had it dealt with.

Derek hooked Jackson’s leg over his shoulder, placing a hand on his hip. Inhaling deeply against the erection, Derek growled softly. “You finally have your scent back.”

Jackson gasped and arched up to Derek’s tongue that glided along his abdomen. His leg slipped from Derek’s shoulder and rested easily on his waist. Derek kissed the scars on his ribs and waist. Jackson winced as his claws ripped the bedcover, his hand wanting to touch Derek. No, his wolf wanted to touch Derek, wanted to bring him closer and enjoy the heat.

Derek caught his hand and moved further up his body. He kissed the scars on his chest and Jackson let out a breathy sound of appreciation Fire trailed up as he knew Derek was getting closer to his goal. Jackson’s leg tightened its hold on Derek’s waist when their cocks met, trying to force the alpha down.

Smirking, Derek changed his angle. He went along the left shoulder, tongue sliding easily along the skin. At the palm, he licked the scar there and Jackson fought to touch him. Without warning, Derek pulled back entirely, his body shuddering.

Jackson sat up and tilted Derek’s head, pressing their lips together. “My turn,” he whispered.

Derek laid down and Jackson let his wolf take over. He didn’t know the first thing about doing something like that, but he wanted to make Derek feel as good as he did. He went to Derek’s right leg, hand running down the back of it to the firm globe that was Derek’s ass.

Turning his head, Jackson inhaled deeply and his eyes fluttered. Derek’s natural scent was heavenly, apple and cinnamon. Jackson was going to assume that’s why he was attracted to Derek; he smelled like family. His wolf’s musk, earthy and canine, mingled well with what Jackson thought of him. Forcing his eyes open, Jackson looked at Derek, smirking as the alpha watched him.

His wolf demanded to taste its mate. Jackson ran his tongue along the inside of the thigh. Derek’s reaction was immediate, red eyes and claws tearing up the covers more than Jackson did. After scenting him, Jackson smelled his scent mixed with Derek’s and he had to question why he would ever want to not feel or smell that. Their musk balanced each other and Jackson thought he smelled fresh and clean when on Derek.

Gently, he lowered Derek’s leg and straddled it, his tongue leaving a shining trail. He stopped at Derek’s hip joint, gazing longing at Derek’s cock. He wanted to taste that, but his wolf told him to move on and he did. He moved up to Derek’s abdomen, curving around to the left waist indent. He stopped and inhaled deeply, pressing his lips there.

Careful of where he placed his hands, Jackson continued the trail with his tongue. He moved up to the center of Derek’s chest, moaning softly at the taste and veered to the right. He went down the arm and ended at the palm, taking it into his hands. He kissed the palm and turned to Derek, wanting his throat.

Derek flipped them and Jackson smiled, eyes closing. Derek’s tongue moved along the vein on the right of his neck. “Mine,” he whispered into the skin and Jackson opened his eyes.

Somehow, he knew an answer wasn’t wanted, but it was needed. “Yes,” he replied softly. Jackson raised his head, burying his nose into Derek’s throat. His tongue darted out, following the rapid beating of the vein up to Derek’s ear. “Mine.”

“Yes,” Derek answered.

The wolf snapped and Jackson’s hand went between their bodies, grasping Derek’s straining cock. The idea of his mate’s seed on him made him shudder with anticipation. Derek groaned, grabbing a bottle from the bedside chest. Jackson held his hand out, accepting the oil. His hand returned, smirking as Derek’s body laid atop his, shuddering.

Jackson gasped as he felt Derek’s hand wrap around him, matching the steady stroking. He nuzzled into Derek’s shoulder. His hips rocked up as Derek’s rocked down and for a moment they could pretend they were actually completing their mating ritual. Their hands increased speed and Jackson let his breath come in short huffs, not wanting it to end.

He arched up, trying to touch as much available skin as possible. Their faces turned into each other’s throats, inhaling the arousal and need for the other. Their bodies worked together entirely. Jackson breathed sharply against Derek’s ear as his climax hit him and Derek groaned into his throat. The release was hot against Jackson’s skin and he fell back onto the bed, while Derek rolled to the side.

Jackson sat up and stretched his arms above his head. That had been the most erotic thing he’d ever done and he felt far more satisfied than every time he had actual sex. He looked down when he felt a hand on his back, the thumb stroking the entry scar from the arrow.

“How do you feel?”

Jackson leaned down and pressed his lips to Derek’s. “Ravenous,” he said huskily. “God, I’m starving!”

After a quick shower together, Derek and Jackson sat at the table, eating Lucky Charms and Jackson making a mental note to pick up more after the funeral. He kept looking at Derek, tilting his head as he saw how relaxed he was. His shoulders weren’t as stiff as they used to be and his eyes had lost most of the hard edge around them.

“You handled the pack well last night,” Derek said, staring down into his bowl.

“You were about to slaughter Boyd for cracking a joke,” Jackson stated and drank the milk from the bowl. “There was a reason I made captain of the team.”

Derek sat back, staring at Jackson. “You’ll have to lead this pack if anything happens to me,” he said.

Jackson winced at the idea of not having Derek around. “Don’t say stuff like that.” He glared at Derek for a moment, before he sighed. “You took out a wendigo today.”

“And you took out _two_ alphas.”

“Technically, you took out the second one,” Jackson said with a shrug.

“After you had maimed and weakened her. And—”

“Derek, I’m not talking about this until I’m completely mated to you,” Jackson said as he stood and stared into Derek’s eyes. “And even then, it’s a strong maybe.”

Derek opened his mouth to argue, but they had both heard the pack returning. Jackson collected their dishes, washing them quickly and Derek swiftly shoved the box of cereal into its place, sitting down as the door opened. Jackson turned from the sink, his wet hands behind his back.

“How was the movie?” Jackson asked as the pack came into view. The four of them froze and stared at him.

“Well, at least the scenting was done,” Peter said and sat down, glancing between them. “You both smell of guilt. It isn’t anything to be ashamed about.”

“His scent smells good on you,” Erica said and neither were sure which one she was talking to. She went to pass through the kitchen and then paused. She looked between Derek and Jackson, giving them a smirk and a wink.

Isaac yawned and collapsed into a chair. “We ate while we were out,” he told them. “I should get my homework done… The next time we have to face off with a wendigo, could we do it on the weekend?”

“Isaac,” Derek warned.

“Derek,” Jackson warned.

Derek looked at him and sighed. “I’m not going to stop being an alpha to our pack, just because your my mate.”

“No, but you can stop being so hard on them. Isaac is one of your best betas _and_ he’s not a power-hungry psychopath,” Jackson said with a smile.

“Also, I brought leftovers,” Boyd said and a bag was dropped on the table, changing the subject. Jackson bit the inside of his lower lip as the sweet scents of Chinese food made his stomach growl. “When did he start eating?”

“About thirty minutes ago,” Derek answered. “You can eat, Jackson.”

Grabbing a fork, Jackson sat down and opened the bag. He opened one of the containers, twirling the noodles around the fork and shoving it into his mouth. He moaned and smiled around it. “God, that’s amazing!”

Boyd raised a confused eyebrow. “It’s…Really?”

Jackson had crammed another forkful into his mouth. He nodded around it, practically hugging the container to his chest. “So good,” he mumbled.

Isaac frowned. “When was the last time he ate?”

“Seven months ago,” Jackson mumbled, finishing off the noodles. He sat back, licking his lips and grabbed the rice. He looked up when Derek placed a hand on his arm.

“Don’t overdo it. Your body might be starving and there’s no need to waste good food.”

“No, it feels like I missed all my meals yesterday or like I just did a hardcore workout.” Jackson paused and smirked at Derek. “I guess it’s that last one.”

“At least give us warning if things get heated,” Erica said as she came out, dressed for vegging out. “If he’s like that for Chinese, imagine chocolate or ice-cream.”

Jackson licked his lips, ignoring the way Derek tensed. “I should probably watch my weight now,” he said with a shrug and grabbed the fried rice.

Boyd watched as Jackson ate and shook his head, holding his hand out to Erica and leading her over to the sofa. “There goes the leftovers,” he muttered as they collapsed.

Jackson’s eyes flicked to him for a moment, but he finished the rice and put the other containers in the fridge. “Did you need help with your homework, Isaac?”

“If you could do it for me, that’d be great,” Isaac slurred, head on the table and practically asleep.

“Come on, kid,” Jackson said, wrapping an arm around Isaac and bringing him to his feet. “Let’s get this done.”

* * *

Jackson ran through the forest, enjoying the feel of the crisp morning air on his hot body. It had been so long since he felt the elements that he wanted to run naked, fully embrace the sensation of warmth and chill. He didn’t, though. The last thing his parents needed, after watching him remove body parts, was getting a call from the sheriff’s department.

Pain was still an issue, unless Derek was touching him. He ran by, small scratches appearing and healing. He was taking it one day at a time, though. While he wished he was completely normal, he didn’t mind not feeling pain. His other senses seemed to work overtime to make up for it. He could hear the air shifting around wings of birds. He could smell the deer that were at least four miles west of him. His eyes took in every detail from the blur of the world.

And that’s why he wasn’t surprised when he felt the other long before he caught the scent. He knew Derek was in the forest, chasing his scent. Jackson grinned and pushed his legs harder, knowing that Erica was trying to catch him, as well. She wanted to be the first ever to seek and retrieve Jackson Whittemore and he wasn’t having any of it, especially as he had caught her second, after Isaac.

To make sure it wasn’t too easy for them, Jackson jumped through trees for miles, before dropping to the ground again and continuing back the way he came. He could smell that Isaac and Boyd were furiously confused about his scent doubling back on itself.

His heartbeat was steady, as was Derek’s. He could feel it and knew that Derek was gaining on him, which wasn’t going to be very much fun. Jackson pulled his shirt off, balling it up and throwing to it his left, while he ran to the right. Resting against a tree, Jackson took a moment to catch his breath and heard Derek’s light footfalls stop dead.

Smirking, Jackson moved around the tree and crossed his arms. He frowned and stepped from the tree, searching for Derek. He knew the alpha had stopped at the crossroad and doubted he’d have gone searching for the shirt. He spun around and caught Derek by the throat, pinning him to the tree.

“I caught the big, bad alpha,” he said and knew the others had heard him.

“Nice trick with the shirt,” Derek said, running his fingers along Jackson’s forehead. “You’ve also started sweating again.” His eyes dropped to the thin scar on Jackson’s left cheek. “Still not feeling pain?”

“No,” Jackson answered and sighed quietly, removing his hand. “I know you want that, but… I think I’m a bigger asset to yo…” He trailed off and shook his head. “To the pack if I don’t.”

“Our pack,” Derek corrected as he leaned forward, pressing his lips to Jackson’s.

“Hey, it’s better than him calling it your pack,” Erica said, leaning against a tree.

“It isn’t ours yet,” Jackson reminded him and turned to Erica. “Didn’t I catch you second?”

“Doesn’t mean I wasn’t gonna follow and learn all your tricks,” she said and grinned, pushing off the tree. Her eyes moved between the pair, her grin changing slightly. “I can still kick your ass in sparring.”

Jackson’s eyes lit up and he stepped closer to her. “Is that an offer?”

Erica shook her head. “Not after what happened last time.” She smiled and headed back to the others.

Jackson growled and turned on Derek, giving the alpha his best glare. Derek lowered his eyes and Jackson sighed, finding it more difficult to stay mad. Derek looked so much like a scolded child that it would be adorable, if not for the fact that his life was messed up for a long time. Hell, he was mated to a non-existent.

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said, tucking his head under Derek’s jaw. “I didn’t mean to make you feel bad, but you did make a point of no one being allowed to spar with me.”

“I don’t want you in pain again.” Jackson shivered against Derek. “If you want to spar with any of them, I’ll stay out of the room.”

Jackson smirked. “Good. I’ve gotten good enough to kick Erica’s ass, anyway.”

He closed his eyes as Derek’s hand ran down his back. Some part of his mind was telling him that he shouldn’t find this scenario as wonderful as he did. As he pressed into Derek more, he decided that part was probably some resonance of his previous self trying to claim some kind of independence.

Jackson forced his eyes open when he realized he was content to fall asleep there. He pulled back from Derek and stretched his arms above his head. He jogged back to his shirt and pulled it on, deciding it was time for lunch. He forgot how much having to eat sucked. At that moment, he would’ve preferred to continue running, but the rumbling in his stomach told him to head back.

At the loft, Jackson went to the kitchen and grabbed the bag of cherries from the fridge. He turned and froze when he realized the others weren’t back or had gone out for lunch. He shrugged, grabbed a bowl and sat on the sofa, turning on the TV. He saw a news broadcast about the killer still being on the loose, but that officials were certain they had left the area.

Jackson lowered his eyes, spitting the pit of the cherry into the bowl. He tilted his head back when Derek entered and went to the bedroom. A shiver ran down his spine as the shower turned on and he felt the tug of the alpha. Placing the cherries and bowl on the new coffee table, Jackson went into the bathroom, sucking the juice from the previous cherry off his thumb.

Derek turned to him and nodded towards the shower. Jackson stripped and stepped under the spray. He shook his head, washing his hair first as Derek joined him. He breathed deeply as Derek’s hand ran up his back and knew that showering together wouldn’t be a quick affair.

After rinsing his hair, Jackson’s fingers brushed over Derek’s abdomen and hip, loving the cut lines and the power within. With ease, Jackson slipped behind Derek and rested his cheek on a shoulder, closing his eyes. He never knew he would miss something he didn’t know existed. The closeness to Derek without it being sexual, without any demand to perform.

One hand trailed over the muscles and tendons in Derek’s shoulder, a smile curving his lips. Jackson doubted he would ever forget how that muscle felt beneath his fingers, the way they moved, stretched and settled with every movement. Somehow, standing behind Derek, pressed against his back, it felt complete, like the trails they left on each other lined up perfectly.

Jackson frowned and pulled back slightly. His place was there, by Derek’s back, watching it and protecting it. Unable to believe he hadn’t noticed it before, he felt Derek’s heart beat in time with his own. Every increase from the realization that they were one, to the soft thud when that thought made him smile.

When Derek turned around, Jackson opened his eyes and gazed into the green eyes. The kiss was gentle, filled with something that Jackson realized he had craved for years. It took him years to find it with Derek, as well. There was something about the tender touch of lips that had his heart thudding painfully in his chest and tears stinging his eyes. It was a simple kiss, but it was so much more powerful than he could have ever expected.

Derek moved his lips down along his jaw and Jackson tilted his head back, letting the alpha have at his throat. Teeth scraped over his flesh and Jackson closed his eyes, a hand on Derek’s neck, the other massaging the ribs. Jackson opened his eyes and changed their position, nuzzling into Derek’s throat. As he expected, Derek’s head went back, baring the flesh.

Jackson wasted no time in gently biting the skin. He inhaled deeply, nuzzling into the flawless flesh. They heard the pack returning and reluctantly pulled apart, finishing their shower. Jackson dried off in the bathroom and walked into the bedroom, drying his hair as the others came up.

“Jackson,” Erica said as she went to the bedroom door, making sure her eyes stayed on the blues. “As hot as your body is, I don’t think Derek wants it on display for all of us. Close the door.”

Blinking, Jackson tilted his head as Erica closed the door. He shrugged and dressed in jeans and a simple collared shirt. Derek came out of the bathroom, looking at the door. “She’s right. All of that,” he said, waving a hand at Jackson. “Is for my eyes only.”

“Okay.”

“What did I say about that word?” There was irritation in Derek’s voice and Jackson tilted his head to the other side.

“And what did I say about your possessive bullshit?” Derek pursed his lips and glared, which made Jackson chuckle. He nuzzled into Derek’s neck. “I’m sorry. But you’re so easy to rile up, especially now.”

Derek pulled Jackson into a hug, who tried to back away. His clothes were becoming fewer, thanks to the tests and proving of points. He didn’t want his clean clothes getting wet. Eventually, he just stood there, glowering at Derek, who smirked and licked his lobe.

Jackson stepped back when he was released and aired his shirt, which was sticking to his torso. He left the bedroom, closing the door. He was going to assume the rules were the same for Derek. Everything that Derek could display was for his eyes only. Not that any of the pack had looked at Derek that way in a while.

Dropping onto the sofa, Jackson grabbed the bowl and cherries again. He could hear the others in Isaac’s room, working on their homework. Peter was nowhere to be seen, which made Jackson sit up. He usually wasn’t far from the loft, unless out on Derek’s orders.

Going to the window, Jackson stood there and stared down at the pavement across the street. There was a chill on his spine. There was a threat coming to the town, which only made him angry. The cherry in his hand was crushed, the juice dripping down like blood.

Jackson knew it would take time. He knew the threat wasn’t in Beacon Hills, but it was drawing closer. Somehow, someone knew about him. His secret had been spread. The strangest part was the thought running through his head: _Protect my pack. I must die protecting my pack._ And he knew he would.

Derek opened the door and Jackson ignored him, simply growling out, “Get Chris Argent here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it.
> 
> Aria_Slytherin12thGen: I totally believe you're a witch. But glad to know you know how to deny it. Thanks for the comment. Hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Reddy_no_1: Welcome back! Yeah, there were times I wished Melissa had raised Jackson, as well. I think it would've been awesome to see Scott and Jackson raised as brothers. How differently things must be for them. I promise you, things only get better. I hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
> Hope to see the two of you in the next one! <3
> 
> Until the next one!
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	12. Peace

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Peace

Jackson glared out the window, waiting for Chris Argent to arrive. He was almost certain that Sheriff Stilinski wouldn’t mention a non-existent at work, as that would have him on sick leave. The only other person that knew, outside of the pack and Scott and Stiles, was the Argents. Jackson didn’t want to jump to conclusions, though. He was going to ask as nicely as possible.

Derek had tried calming him down, but he just glared at the alpha. His pack was in danger. The chill on his spine was getting worse. The threat was growing closer by the minute. In at least a day, whoever or whatever it was would be in Beacon Hills. It wouldn’t take them long to discover Jackson, especially if they knew who they were seeking. He wasn’t going to lose anyone, not ever again.

Chris Argent finally arrived a little after five. He went up to the loft and knocked on the door. Derek opened it and once the hunter was inside, Jackson was on him, hand around his throat. His eyes sparkled blue as he glared at Chris, who stabbed a knife into his side.

“I’m a non-existent, remember?” Jackson’s eyes widened and he glared at Derek. “Touch me and I’ll kill him.”

Chris gasped and struggled to loosen Jackson’s grip. “What…kinda…threat…is…that?”

Derek narrowed his eyes and advanced on Jackson, crying out when Jackson removed a second knife Chris had and threw it at his thigh. He tried to ignore the burning from the silver. “How the fuck are you such a badass now?” he demanded and ripped the knife from the muscle.

Ignoring Derek, Jackson turned his eyes to Chris. “I want answers. Who have you told about me?” Chris gasped raggedly and Jackson squeezed a little harder, lifting his feet off the floor. “ _Who_ have you told about me?”

Chris’s eyes began to flutter and Jackson growled, throwing him into the wall beneath his usual window. Derek’s leg healed enough for him to grab Jackson around the waist, but when Jackson turned on him, he let him go. He knew he should trust Jackson enough to not torture or kill Chris.

The hunter groaned and rolled his right shoulder. “I sent a sample of your blood to a cousin,” he said. “I didn’t say what it was from, but we know about non-existents.”

Sighing, Jackson turned to Derek and bit his wrist, smearing his blood onto the stab wound. Derek frowned down at it, but joined Jackson crouching in front of Chris. “You sent a sample of his blood to other hunters?”

Chris was staring at Derek’s thigh. “I had to be sure. His blood was still fresh and I… Well, I’ve never known one to exist, outside of stories from dusty books,” he said and looked between the pair.

“Considering you said the last non-existent was around a thousand years ago, I can see why you’ve never met one,” Jackson stated and leaned forward. “That cousin of yours has sent someone to collect me.”

“Leon would never send someone to ‘collect’ you, Jackson. He’s probably coming to see if you’re real.” Chris winced as he sat up and sighed.

“I had to watch two people be tortured, before one was eaten and the other dumped by a wendigo over the last two days. I know when me or my pack is being hunted.” Jackson stood, a clawed hand gripping Chris’s shoulder and pulling him up. “You better tell him to turn around.”

Chris had to shuffle his feet when he’s dropped to keep his balance. He pulled his phone and called his cousin, asking where he was. Derek stared at Jackson, as though trying to read his mind. Jackson looked at him, as though daring him to ask the question on his mind.

After a few minutes, Chris hung up and sighed. “He said he’ll turn around, if he can meet you.”

Jackson tilted his head, eyes unblinking. Suddenly, a feral grin spread across his face. “This is gonna be fun,” he said and went to the door. “He’ll be here tomorrow. Pick me up at noon. We’ll do lunch at yours.”

Chris nodded and left the loft, clutching his injured shoulder. Jackson stood at the window and watched him drive away. Jackson tilted his head and turned to Derek, staring at him with hard eyes. The alpha returned the look, waiting for Jackson to speak.

“I know you don’t like my non-existent state, Derek,” he said as he stepped closer. “But it gets results. Don’t get in my way again.”

Derek sighed and shook his head. “I can’t do that, Jackson. You’re part of my pack, which means that Chris could declare war on us, if he wanted. He came here, even though he didn’t have to. You attacked him on sight.”

“That idiot told someone about me!” Jackson rubbed the center of his back, the chill was getting worse. “And that someone is a threat, not just to me, but to you, as well.”

“I believe the words you used were ‘my pack.’ I could be wrong. After all, my _mate_ did just stab me with a silver knife!” Derek glared at Jackson, who simply shrugged.

“Not my fault you didn’t take me seriously,” Jackson said simply and removed the knife from his side. He looked at it and decided it was decent. “It’s a good knife.” He lowered his eyes. “I don’t like hurting you, Derek.”

“Jackson,” Derek said and placed a hand on his shoulder. “Then don’t do it. That’s the only time you get to hurt me, since I killed you.”

Jackson frowned as the hand was removed and he heard Derek’s belt being undone. He raised an eyebrow as the jeans were dropped, looking up the muscular legs. He could see his blood smeared on Derek’s leg, but the wound was healed and there wasn’t a scar.

“Touch me,” Jackson said and raised his shirt, running his fingers over his side. Derek’s hand was on his neck and he felt the scar from the knife. “That’s the second time he’s scarred me.”

Derek’s hand moved and was replaced with his mouth. Jackson’s hand went back, tangling in Derek’s thick mass of hair. Derek’s free hand slipped under the shirt Jackson wore, thumb running along his spine. Jackson felt his body reacting and he wanted more. The thumb grazed over the chill and paused there.

Derek pulled back and frowned. “Why is that cold?”

“You can feel it?”

“Yeah,” Derek said and lifted the shirt, staring at the flawless skin around the chill. Above and below were scars from tests performed. “What is it?”

“The warning of a threat approaching,” Jackson said and looked over his shoulder. “I probably should’ve asked Chris about non-existents going into a victim’s head.”

Derek ran his hand over the chill on Jackson’s spine. “I know why,” he said and Jackson frowned at him. “You’re a protector. You always have been, except your fear usually held you back. Without your emotions, you were able to finally open your potential. As soon as you learned how to care, you started caring about victims.”

Jackson lowered his eyes and straightened his head. “Mind if I ask a question?”

Derek nuzzled Jackson’s neck. “No.”

“Why the fuck do you want the old me back?”

* * *

Jackson used one of Derek’s shirts for the meeting with Chris’s cousin, Leon. He had bled enough on his own clothing, but he figured he could grab more from his parents’ place. He also wanted to show them that he wasn’t a complete mess, as he had been a few months ago.

Chris didn’t bother to get out of his car. He simply honked the horn and Jackson glared at him from the window, before he turned around. The pack was staring at him, as though all of them were asking the same question. _Are you sure you don’t want us with you?_ Jackson couldn’t live with himself if any of them got hurt because someone was after him.

Giving them a hit of the old Jackson Whittemore, he smirked as he left the loft and willingly got into the car of a hunter. Chris glared at him, but made no comment and drove back to his house. Jackson tried to ignore the way the chill deepened. It was almost painful.

“I heard you were responsible for the kidnapped people being returned,” Chris said absently, but Jackson knew he wanted to know how or why. “Good job.”

“I’m still gonna kill your cousin,” Jackson said, internally smirking when Chris glared at him. “If he so much as _thinks_ of testing my non-existent abilities, he’ll die choking on his trachea.”

Chris stopped at a red light and stared at Jackson. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered and shook his head. “You are definitely not the kid from before.”

“Your cousin is putting my mate and my pack in danger,” Jackson said abruptly, setting his jaw. “I don’t know what he’s up to, but I don’t like it.”

Chris frowned at Jackson. “How do you know that? You didn’t tell me how you knew I’d told someone about you, either.”

Jackson stared at Chris, a lazy smile on his face. “I’m Batman,” he said and laughed when Chris just rolled his eyes. “You think I’d tell a hunter anything about me? The pissant details you have on non-existents is more than enough.”

“Last I heard, you wanted to know all those pissant details,” Chris said as he turned onto his street.

“That’s before I was scented. Now, I don’t give a shit. My mate is being threatened and I don’t like it.”

“I don’t think Leon is going to do anything to you,” Chris said and Jackson shrugged.

Once the car stopped, Jackson slipped out and went to the door. He stopped when Chris called his name. He opened the garage and Jackson stepped inside. The door was closed and he caught the arrow that was fired at him. He snapped it in two, glaring into the shadows of the garage.

“Don’t kill him, yet,” Chris said as he placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder.

Leon stepped into the light, narrowing his eyes at Jackson. “So, you’re the one with the blood that lives outside the body?” he asked, lowering his bow.

“And you’re the hunter that’s going to die today,” Jackson said with a smile. He could already feel Chris tensing up. “He shot at me!”

“And if you’re what I think you are, it wouldn’t have been a problem,” Leon said and sat down, an arrow in his hand, ready to be nocked and fired. “When Chris sent me that blood sample, I thought I was seeing things. It was on a tissue, so it should have definitely oxidized. But there it was, still as fresh as ever.”

“Mm,” Jackson hummed and walked around the garage. “So you decided to come to town to…what, exactly? Collect a fresher sample or just take me by force?”

“I had no intention of causing harm.” Jackson held up the broken arrow and Leon shifted on the seat. “Well, that was just to make sure.”

Jackson stared at the side of the garage that held tools on it. “Is now a good time to mention I’m a werewolf?”

Leon’s eyes widened. “What? Non-existents can’t be werewolves.” He looked at Chris, clearly expecting an explanation.

“They also can’t feel anything,” Jackson went on and picked up a spanner, testing the weight in his hand. He put it back and got the wrench. “But I do and that’s not all.”

“Oh? And what else can you do?”

“I can hear the crackle of the recorder you’re wearing.” Jackson threw the wrench at Leon and the device sizzled, forcing the man to remove it. “This non-existent also killed an alpha and two betas. I want to suggest that you leave and don’t come back, but…”

Chris sighed quietly. “You fired on him for no reason,” he filled in.

“What? You said he attacked you yesterday, unprovoked,” Leon said and glared at Jackson.

“He gave me this scar,” Jackson said, pulling down the collar of the shirt to show the bullet scar. “Unprovoked, also.”

“Nice shot. How about the scars on your throat?” Leon asked and Jackson tilted his head.

“Those are from my mate.” Jackson smirked and leaned over the workbench. “Now, if he does this,” he said and ran his fingers over his throat, “to his mate, imagine what he’d do to a hunter that fired a silver arrow at his mate.”

“You did tell me that you only wanted to talk to him, Leon,” Chris said as his cousin continued to stare at the scars on Jackson’s throat. “You didn’t even give me time to ask him if he would be okay with that.”

“Oh and the answer to that is no.” Jackson smiled.

“His blood could cure the world of all diseases,” Leon whispered to Chris, as though he forgot that Jackson was a werewolf and could hear him. “Think about it! A world free from cancer, free fro—”

Chris was shaking his head. “Gerard tried that with him, as well. He’s dead. That’s all you came here for? To try and profit off a seventeen year old?”

Jackson gazed at Chris, surprised at the disgust in his voice and scent. “Can I kill him now? I’m gonna kill him now.”

“Wait,” Chris said and Jackson growled, pouting at the workbench. “Do you have cancer?”

“An inoperable tumor. So, killing me would be doing me a fav—”

Jackson’s hand shot out and crushed Leon’s trachea. Jackson watched as he struggled to breathe, falling to the ground. “Told you he would choke on his trachea.” He raised an eyebrow. “I thought it would be quicker.”

Chris glared at Jackson. “Where am I supposed to put his body?” he demanded, stepping around his struggling cousin. “Allison was meant to meet him after school!”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “Were you always this dramatic? Back your car up, we’ll roll his cancer-ridden ass into the trunk and bury him in the woods. Tell Allison that he had an emergency at home and he regretfully had to leave this afternoon.” He shook his head. “Are human brains only for show or something? Jesus Christ, just die!” He glared down at Leon, who was still gasping for air, his face changing color.

Chris glanced between Jackson’s angry face and the purple face of his cousin. “I just let you kill a hunter,” he said and sighed.

“Did _you_ wanna deal with Derek if I was kidnapped?” Jackson asked, sitting on the workbench, swinging his legs over Leon. “I don’t think you’d like him angry.”

“I—I can’t, right now,” Chris said and walked through a door into the kitchen. “I’m getting coffee.”

“Okay,” Jackson said jovially, gazing down at Leon. “You know, if you had just asked of me, I would have cured your tumor.” He tilted his head, wondering how he could have done that. He didn’t know, but if it was asked of him, he would’ve found a way.

A few minutes later, Leon finally went silent and there was no more struggling. Chris stood in the door, staring at Jackson. “You’re really fucking scary now,” he said and Jackson looked at him, eyes glittering blue for a moment. “The kanima stuff was… This? This is way more messed up.”

Jackson caught the keys Chris tossed him and jumped over Leon’s body. He opened the garage and backed the car up, popping the trunk. He easily wrapped Leon’s body in some garbage bags, making sure they were sealed tight with duct tape and tossed the body into the trunk, while Chris grabbed the shovels.

With everything packed, Jackson drove Chris to an entrance for the woods. They waited until a group of friends had loaded up and left, a couple of them glancing at them questioningly. Jackson rolled his eyes and settled in the seat, closing his eyes. He heard cars start and leave, before he rolled down the window and stuck his head out, sniffing the wind.

“We’re clear for the moment. There’s a group about…six and a half miles away. We have to move.”

Chris carried the shovels while Jackson slung the corpse over his shoulder. They moved away from the group that was in the woods, finding somewhere far from the beaten track. They dug, making sure the hole was at least four feet deep. The last thing they needed was a shallow grave unearthing their dirty little secret. Jackson dropped the body down and they quickly covered it.

Once they were finished, Chris gazed at Jackson. “Did you mean what you said to him? If he had asked, you would’ve cured him?”

Jackson jumped on the grave, compacting the dirt. “Of course,” he answered. “If my blood wants to exist and cure the world, who am I to stand in its way?” He finished compacting the dirt and looked at Chris. “Derek doesn’t hear about this.”

“You think I’m that crazy?” Chris shook his head. “But give me your number. I might need help with other bodies in the future.”

Jackson grinned and tossed the keys to Chris. “I’m showering at yours. Derek will definitely smell the dead body on me. Oh and I don’t have a phone anymore. But just call Derek. Codeword is ‘Pringles.’”

* * *

Back at the loft, Jackson rubbed his spine. The chill was gone, which meant Leon was definitely the threat or Chris was, but since they buried a body together, they were fine. Shaking his head, Jackson flopped onto the sofa, across the laps of Boyd and Erica.

“Don’t mean to cock-block,” Jackson said and watched the cooking show that was on the TV. He sat up suddenly and looked around the loft. “Where’s Derek?”

“He went out to patrol the woods,” Boyd said, shifting uncomfortably as Jackson moved around on his lap. “His uncle said he saw something suspicious.”

“Oh, good,” Jackson said and laid down again. “Hey, watch the hands, Reyes.”

“ _You_ sat on them,” Erica said and yanked her hands from under Jackson. “How did the meeting go with the cousin of Chris?”

Jackson smirked. “Great,” he purred, stretching his legs. “Had a bit of a breathing problem, though.”

“Did you wash your clothes over there?” Boyd asked, sniffing at Jackson. “That isn’t our powder.”

“Oh, yeah. I had to have them washed. Bastard decided to throw his coffee at me when I refused to give up a sample of my blood. Somehow, he thought that would make me reconsider.” Jackson smiled as he watched the roast being pulled from the oven.

Jackson twirled a lock of Erica’s hair through his fingers, enjoying the feel of the silky strands. He frowned and stared at his hand. He had felt her hands under him, as well. He rolled off them and ran to the kitchen, grabbing a knife. He heard Boyd shouting at him to stop, but he had already stabbed the blade through his hand by the time both of them had stood.

Relief flooded through Jackson and he let his hand bleed over the sink. He couldn’t feel the pain. He removed the knife and the wound healed over, the scar now bigger than usual. That was going to be fun to explain to Derek, if he noticed.

“What the hell, Jackson?” Boyd demanded and took the knife from Jackson.

“I could feel you,” Jackson said and looked in Boyd’s furious eyes. “I could feel Erica’s hair and her hands under me. I could feel your legs under my hips.”

Erica tilted her head and stepped up to Jackson, hugging him. His eyes widened as he felt her arms around him and the warmth of her body spread through his. His hand shot out and he could feel the texture of Boyd’s skin on his fingers. He had no idea what that meant.

“We’re pack, Jackson,” Erica said and released him. “You stab yourself again and I’ll tell Derek.”

Jackson stared between the pair, trying to understand what he was hearing. He’d been pack for months, even if he couldn’t feel anything. He didn’t know why he was just starting to feel anything from the rest of them. He hadn’t felt Isaac’s hands on him, only a few weeks ago.

“You might finally be feeling everything now,” Boyd said quietly and placed a hand on Jackson’s shoulder. He could feel the warmth spread through his body and stared at the hand.

“I don’t understand,” Jackson said and stepped back. He frowned and hugged both Erica and Boyd, feeling a smile spread over his face. “It feels nice.”

Jackson opened his eyes when Isaac came out of his room, chemistry textbook in hand. He frowned when he saw the group hug happening, but shrugged and dropped the book on the table. He hugged Jackson, who shuddered with something akin to delight. Somehow, it felt right.

Somehow, Jackson had no idea how, but the four of them ended up on the floor in front of the sofa. They were tangled around each other. Erica and Boyd were definitely more interested in cuddling each other, but Boyd’s head rested on Jackson’s thigh. Isaac was curled up to his side and Jackson felt comfortable. At one stage, he was certain this kind of cuddling would repulse him.

Derek’s return made them look up, but they didn’t move. Derek stared at them, as though he was confused. It lasted only a moment, before his eyes dropped to the hand that was petting Erica’s hair and moved to the one that was stroking Isaac’s neck. Jackson got that feeling of warmth, pride and something else that made him feel like he was home.

That feeling also lasted only a moment, before Derek asked, “How did the meeting go?”

Jackson nuzzled into Isaac’s hair, mostly to hide the smirk. “Great,” he said and looked at Derek again. “He had a bit of a breathing problem, though. I think there’s something seriously wrong with Chris’s extended family.”

“On a first name basis with the hunters?” Derek asked as he stood behind the sofa, staring at the top of Jackson’s head.

“Oh, he and I had a long discussion about what happened yesterday. We decided that it was payback.” Jackson tilted his head back. “The crazy uncle saw something suspicious in the woods?”

“Yeah,” Derek said, voice monotone. “He found some strange footprints. There wasn’t any strange scents around and you haven’t felt a threat, except for another hunter.”

Jackson shifted slightly and found that his spine was normal. The chill was definitely gone, but he wasn’t sure if that was because Leon was a threat to him and his pack or if it was because he was a threat in general. He hadn’t felt the wendigo as a threat, either. The only reason they took care of it was because it was killing people.

“Isaac, you need to finish your homework,” Jackson said, giving his hair a gentle tug.

Groaning in disappointment, Isaac released his hold on Jackson and went to the table. Figuring that Jackson wanted to get up, Erica and Boyd moved their bodies onto the sofa. Jackson stood and went to the window, staring out it, opening channels he didn’t know existed in his head.

“Fuck!” he hissed and slammed the channels shut, holding his head. He tried to force the pounding to disappear.

Jackson forced his eyes to open and immediately regretted it, turning from the window. He wanted to slump to the floor and curl up, but his body refused to go down. He couldn’t feel Derek holding him up. The only thing he felt was the agony in his head.

Voices screamed painfully at him and Jackson reached out, trying to find something stable to lean on. He could vaguely feel the leather in his fingers and the taste of Derek on his tongue. He idea of putting pressure on his sinuses to breathe was just not an option.

After what seemed like an eternity and a half, the pain finally subsided enough for Jackson to half-open his eyes. He was clutching Derek’s jacket, holding him close as though his life depended on it. The pack was staring at him, pain and worry etched in their faces. He had no idea what happened, but knew he needed to speak with Lydia about it.

“What happened?”

Jackson had no idea who asked the question. His ears felt blocked and his head was almost fuzzy. “Lydia,” he whispered, pressing into Derek more. “Tomorrow.” And he passed out.

* * *

Eyes opening slowly, Jackson realized he was in Derek’s bed. He was curled into a ball, holding his head like a frightened child. He inhaled deeply through his nose and caught the gentle scent of Lydia’s perfume and shampoo. He lowered his arms and found her sitting in a chair beside the bed. She was flipping through a magazine, completely bored. There was something around his eyes that he couldn’t be bothered removing.

“Well, I guess that’s why we were compatible for a little bit,” Lydia said without raising her eyes. “From the _vague_ description I got from Alpha Idiot out there…” She glared at the door and Derek growled in warning. “…you opened too much too soon.”

Jackson frowned, thinking back when Chris told him about the jogger that went missing. He had opened all his senses for that, too. He wasn’t slammed with everything, but he hadn’t felt the connection of the pack and his wolf, either. It seemed that scenting Derek had messed with him more than he thought.

Lydia went back to the magazine. “You know what I mean, Jackson. You tried to find a threat, but you found the pain of thousands of people in the town.” She finally glanced at him and frowned, moving forward. She touched his lower lashes, frown deepening. “You cried blood. Your mind was violated.”

Jackson frowned and touched the blood on his lower lashes. Like always, his blood refused to die once it left his body. He looked at Lydia, wanting more explanations for what he could do to prevent it getting worse. He didn’t want to cry blood while on the streets. He knew that would have people asking questions, questions he, his mate and their pack didn’t need and couldn’t answer.

“The mind has several doors that are usually closed, especially to those that don’t believe in that sort of thing,” Lydia said, her eyes running over an article. “You opened _all_ of them, trying to find a threat that doesn’t exist, yet.” She looked up, watching as Jackson used the shirt to wipe away the blood. “Like being a werewolf, you can’t jump straight into the deep end and expect to come out alive.”

Jackson stared at her. “A little _too_ on the nose there, Lydia,” he said and finished wiping his eyes. “So how do I open the door to sense threats to the general population?”

Lydia smiled and closed the magazine, tossing it onto the nightstand. “That’s more like it.” She brought the chair closer to the bed. “You do it the exact way you did it before. But,” she hissed when Jackson frowned at her. “You don’t open all of them. You open one at a time and find the door you want.”

The frown disappeared from Jackson’s face as he stared at her blankly, trying to understand what he was hearing. He had felt the victims of the wendigo without doing anything like that. They had just…forced their way into his head and he wasn’t sure why that was.

“Derek said that you felt the victims of the wendigo,” Lydia said as she leaned back, crossing her legs. “That’s the door you need to open, so you don’t feel what they’re going through when they force their way in. It’ll be weird the first few weeks, but you’ll get used to the feeling of something else in your mind.”

“To all threats or just the supernatural ones?” Jackson asked and closed his eyes, trying to find the doors he opened before and his mind recoiled.

“I don’t know,” Lydia said honestly. “I get feelings. You seem to see and feel everything through the eyes of the victim, which I recommend you work on. You’ll be useless to your pack if you can’t get any details out to them.”

“My…” Jackson frowned and opened his eyes. “My mind hurts.”

“You were violated yesterday,” Lydia explained and checked her perfect manicure. “Psychic pain is probably the one thing werewolf healing can’t touch.”

“Werewolf healing is only good for physical pain,” Jackson muttered and stared at the ceiling of the room. “I don’t think I ever want to feel that pain again.”

“Too bad, Jackson. You’re a protector of the town, now. You need to open your mind, so you can _protect_ the town. I don’t suggest you do it right away, though. Wait for your mind to heal and then start opening doors. But one at a time.” Lydia stood and pressed her hand to Jackson’s forearm. “Good luck.”

Jackson smiled, not surprised when he heard Derek talking to Lydia, while Isaac slipped into the room. Raising his head, Jackson’s smile stayed in place as Isaac gazed at him, almost like a kicked puppy. Not caring if Derek didn’t want it, he held his hand out to Isaac, who jogged onto the bed and nestled into Jackson’s side.

“Are you okay?” Isaac asked.

“My mind is a little bruised, but I’m fine,” Jackson answered, running his fingers through Isaac’s hair.

It wasn’t long after that that Erica and Boyd joined him on the bed. Their scents mingled so well with his and Derek’s that it stopped the gentle throbbing in his head. For a while, he could ignore the fact that he had managed to violate his mind. For a while, he could forget that he was a non-existent and could live as a werewolf, surrounded by pack that cared deeply for him.

He could feel Erica’s fingers brushing over the exit scar of the arrow. Isaac’s fingers brushed over the knife scar from Peter’s curiosity. He could feel Boyd’s neck under his fingers as he gently massaged the muscles there. It felt good, but not complete.

Jackson was about to let his eyes close, fall asleep as the others had, but he stopped and looked at the doorway. Derek stood there, watching him, eyes soft. “Welcome home,” he whispered.

Warmth tried to fill him, but Jackson winced and shut down the link. He wasn’t ready to deal with that in his head. Derek came up to the bed, eyes apologizing and Jackson just smiled. For just a moment, he didn’t need Derek’s reassurance that he would be all right. For just a moment, he didn’t need his alpha to tell him anything. For just a moment, he didn’t need Derek to calm him. For just a moment, he felt complete with Derek’s hand on his ankle. For just a moment, the world was complete.

For just a brief, fleeting moment in their lives, there was peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hope y'all enjoyed it.
> 
> Aria_Slytherin12thGen: Foreshadowing isn't my strongest point. Hope that answers your question. =D But yes, I completely agree. Should definitely be thinking happier thoughts. I hope you enjoyed this chapter. If not, you will *definitely* enjoy the next chapter.
> 
> Until the next one!
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	13. Mates

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Mates

Five days. It took five days for Jackson’s mind to heal enough for him to start trying the doors. He was surprised to find that they were literal doors, just standing in the darkness and somehow illuminated. All had a different color to the wood, each with a knocker that was different from the last. The handles were brass, gold, silver or copper. Each one led somewhere and Jackson wanted to know where they went.

Derek had mentioned nothing about that being part of a werewolf. Jackson was certain it had nothing to do with being a non-existent. He knew for a fact that his mind wasn’t anything like that as a kanima. Still, he would walk by some doors and they would disappear from his mind, as though they knew they weren’t the one he was searching for.

Frowning, Jackson turned and suddenly the doors flew past him. He found one that was pitch black, the silver knocker was in the mouth of a gargoyle. The silver handle gleamed in the unseen light source. It should worry him, should incite some kind of fear, but he didn’t feel it. Before him was just a door. He refused to be cowed by a door.

Taking the handle, Jackson pushed down and the door swung open easily. He stepped through and his eyes widened as he saw thousands, possibly millions of threads before him. They were all white in color, but one was black. He touched it and he whipped through something, until he was looking through someone’s eyes.

Whoever he was looking through, they moved silently. The house they were in was dark and silent, but the eyes saw everything, like all the lights were on. The eyes glanced at a large oil painting in the hallway, but they continued on without another look. They moved through a door and saw two sleeping figures in a bed. Something was in the hand, which was raised.

Jackson snapped back to himself with a gasp just as the knife was plunged into the chest of the father. He was on his knees, trembling. He looked up and found that Derek was being restrained by the entire pack, all of them dogpiling him. Jackson shivered, trying to get some warmth through his body and grabbed a tissue, wiping the blood from his eyes.

“Let him up,” he said to the others and they fell from Derek, who strode into the room and hugged him tightly. Jackson hated to admit it, but he whimpered quietly as Derek’s warmth washed through him. “What has you so scared?”

Derek’s arms just tightened around him and Jackson turned them, so he could pose the question to his pack with his eyes. Erica didn’t look happy to say anything, while Boyd appeared a little scared. Isaac couldn’t stop staring at him.

Peter grinned. “You sang,” he said with a shrug. “Derek left you alone, so you could do…whatever it was you did. But then we heard singing. Open the door and it’s just you in here, singing. My dear, dear nephew was convinced that you were possessed.”

Jackson frowned up at Derek. “Because I was _singing_?”

“It wasn’t your voice,” Erica said and shivered. “It was like a little girl’s voice.”

Jackson winced as something cold moved through him. He rubbed the center of his spine, feeling a slight chill there. “There was a double murder,” he said and could definitely feel Derek’s surprise. “Not here. I don’t…” He glanced at the window and saw that it was bright daylight out there. “It wasn’t even on this continent,” he finished.

Boyd raised an eyebrow. “Then why does it matter?”

“Because it’ll be coming here,” Jackson said, unsure if that was true or not. He didn’t understand why one thread of millions was black. He could only assume that meant that thread was coming to Beacon Hills, because _everything_ came to Beacon Hills.

The worst part was that he didn’t even know what it was. He felt cold, but then he didn’t know what that meant. He didn’t even know why his early warning system was a cold spot in the middle of his back. That made no sense to him. Still, he had to make sure everyone knew everything.

“It was a kid,” Jackson went on and pulled back from Derek. “The kid killed their parents.”

“Yeah, because that’s not creepy,” Peter said, staring at Jackson.

“I don’t remember saying it wasn’t,” Jackson snapped and glared at the old werewolf. “I wasn’t there for the whole thing.” He sighed and rubbed his hands over his face. “I need to see Lydia. She knows more about this stuff than any of us.”

Jackson grabbed his shoes, pulling them on. He paused when Derek placed a hand on his shoulder. “I’ll text her first, just so she isn’t super bitchy with you,” he said and Jackson nodded.

Derek did that and Jackson waited. An hour later, they got a reply and it was to say that she was out with Allison. Jackson growled and forced his wolf back. He kicked his shoes off and sat on the bed, closing his eyes. He thought about what happened.

Singing, they said. He had sung and it sounded like a little girl. He was praying that wasn’t a jab at his voice, but he could smell their confusion and the terror on Isaac. If he didn’t know any better, he would say hearing a little girl singing terrified the werewolf. Jackson was certain he would feel the same way.

The chill on his spine wasn’t strong, which meant that the threat wasn’t anywhere near the town. They had weeks, he thought. He didn’t know how he knew that, but it felt right. In the upcoming weeks, he would need to figure out what they were dealing with. He didn’t know how to do that. What could he search for? Children had been known to murder their parents before.

There was something he had seen. He knew he had seen it, but he couldn’t remember what it was. All he could remember was the cold that seemed to be inside him. There was almost like a layer of ice under his skin, practically freezing his throat. He couldn’t say anything as he walked towards the parents’ room. If the kid was human, how had they seen so well in the dark?

Jackson opened his eyes when Derek stood in front of him. He placed a hand on Derek’s hip and pulled him close, kissing beside his navel. He lifted the shirt Derek wore and kissed again, hearing Derek’s breath hitch. He raised his eyes and smirked, dropping the shirt.

“Time for me to eat, huh?” Jackson asked as he stood up and stretched his arms above his head. He followed Derek out of the room, grabbing a slice of pizza. He leaned against the counter, eating slowly. “I probably won’t come to bed tonight.”

Derek silenced the quip Erica was about to say with a look. “What’s wrong?”

Jackson frowned, feeling Derek’s hurt. “Nothing is wrong. We’ve got a threat that’ll be arriving shortly. It feels about three weeks away. And that really isn’t a lot of time to research _every_ supernatural creature that exists.” He grabbed another slice and gazed at Derek. “You could help,” he added with a shrug. “I could even use Stiles for this one.”

Jealousy flashed through Derek as he glared at his pizza. Jackson closed his eyes and hung his head. He really needed to talk to Derek about that. Every time he mentioned spending time with Stiles, the only one that could explain anything to him, had Derek’s jealousy up to an eleven. He didn’t understand it. He felt nothing when Derek saw Scott or…actually, it was just Scott and Stiles.

Shaking his head, Jackson finished his slice and grabbed another. He left the loft and headed down to the room that held the materials he needed. He finished eating and licked his fingers clean, glancing up when Peter joined him. He knew what the question would be and he wasn’t sure he had an answer for it.

“What are we searching for?”

Jackson was right. He didn’t have an answer. “I don’t know,” he said and grabbed a book. “All I know is that it was cold.”

For the next few hours, Jackson and Peter go through as many books as they possibly can, marking pages that mention cold, ice and frost. Jackson couldn’t believe how many supernatural creatures have that as their calling card, but he still wasn’t dissuaded from searching. Though, he could think of a hundred other ways to spend a Saturday night.

After training, Derek joined them and Jackson just shoved a pile of books towards him. He needed those re-read so he could either keep or sort them. Derek said nothing as he began reading through the books, asking what they were looking for. Peter gave the answer and Jackson stared into space, trying to understand if he was missing something. Cold was such a simple thing. Too many creatures had cold associated with them. It would take them months to get through all the books and creatures.

“Fuck!” Jackson shouted and got off the table he was sitting on. “I’m going for run.”

Derek stood, as though he was about to follow, but sat down again at the glare on Jackson’s face. “Be safe,” he said and Jackson nodded.

Leaving the loft, Jackson started a quick jog around the area. He ignored all the sights, sounds and smells that assaulted his senses. He just wanted to clear his head and think – think about what could make a child murder their parents. His mind instantly jumped to a demon. He’d read in one of the books that a demon could possess someone. There was contradictory information, though. Some said that a demon was one of few supernatural creatures that could raise the temperature, rather than lower it. At least one said that demon’s made the area around it freezing.

_It’s not demons,_ Jackson told himself. He wanted to act as though he could rule something out. He knew he couldn’t properly rule out a demon, though. If there was one that could make the area around it freeze, it was worth looking into. That wasn’t a good thing, though. Jackson had seen a massive book on demons and he wasn’t looking forward to wasting a week just reading that.

The need to close his eyes took over and he did so, instant regret on him. He saw the knife plunge into the chest of the father. There was no reaction from the child doing it. The knife just went down again, up and down like some kind of messed up teeter-totter.

Forcing his eyes open, Jackson returned to the loft. He took his seat on the table, ignoring that he was sweating and panting. He just wanted to find something promising. He needed to prevent a family in Beacon Hills from feeling the loss. He didn’t want another child to grow up without parents, especially if they were responsible for it.

Jackson dropped the book he held and pressed his hands to his eyes, trying to push away the image. He jumped when he felt hot hands on his wrists and stared at Derek. Clenching his jaw, Jackson glared at the floor. He didn’t need comfort for something that was out of his control and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to cry.

Pulling his wrists free, Jackson knelt on the table and wrapped his arms around Derek’s neck. “I don’t want to see it,” he whispered. “But I can’t unsee it.”

Derek held Jackson tightly and the beta melted into the embrace. “I know,” he said, kissing the side of Jackson’s head. “It’ll be all right, once we find what we’re dealing with.”

Jackson sighed softly and pulled back, staring down at his lap. “I don’t know if we can, Derek. I don’t even know what we’re dealing with. There’s a literal fuck ton of supernatural beasties that have cold, ice or frost as their calling card.”

He looked up and he must have looked pitiful, because Derek held his face. “We’ll find it, Jackson. Your stubbornness alone should be enough.”

Jackson smiled and pulled his head free. “I think you’re confusing me with Stiles,” he said.

Derek’s thumb ran along Jackson’s lower lip. “I like it when you smile.”

Jackson laughed when Derek blushed and stepped back, head lowered. He slipped off the table gracefully and tucked his head under Derek’s chin. “You’re adorable,” he said teasingly, not surprised when Derek growled.

There was a third heartbeat and Jackson turned, keeping as much of his body as possible pressed to Derek’s. Stiles stood there, head lowered, like he had just walked in on something. Jackson said nothing, but pulled away and handed a book to the human. He wanted to spend the rest of the day staring at Derek, just so when he closed his eyes, he’d see his mate’s face instead of a murder.

* * *

Derek entered the room and Jackson didn’t glance at him. He was in complete non-existent mode, scanning words in the books and filing away the information. He hadn’t joined the others for dinner or breakfast and made sure he didn’t need to sleep.

Anger flashed through him and Jackson blinked, shaking his head. He looked over at the doorway and found Derek glaring at him, as though he’d done something wrong. Suddenly, the lack of sleep hit him like a freight train and he groaned, slipping off the table. He knew Derek would be angry with him, but he just wanted results and answers.

Stiles was still passed out on the floor, surrounded by books he had gone through. Jackson lowered his head when Derek’s glare somehow grew more intense. He sighed quietly and tilted his head back. Derek was on him in an instant, teeth scraping the flesh and Jackson’s eyes fluttered.

“You know I don’t like it,” Derek murmured into the flesh of Jackson’s throat.

“I also don’t like that some murdering… _thing_ is coming to our town, either.” Jackson waited until Derek pulled away and grabbed the notebook. “I was able to get through most of the books and most of them had nothing I was looking for. There was one that showed some promise.”

After checking his notes, Jackson hunted for the book. It was one of the first he read and he found the box, dedicated to cursed objects. He grabbed the book and turned to the page, handing it to Derek. The alpha frowned for a moment, but took the book and read the section Jackson had opened it to.

“You think we’re dealing with a haunted object?” Derek asked as he lowered the book.

Jackson nodded and grabbed the book Stiles was holding. The human mumbled and turned over. “It’s the same in here, too. Some souls can haunt an object,” he said as he handed the book to Derek. He moved around the table, grabbing another. “This one says that if a spirit is angry enough, it can possess someone to do their bidding.”

Derek frowned as Jackson moved around, grabbing books, handing them to him. “Jackson, calm down. You’re as bad as Stiles at the moment.” Jackson stopped and glared. “What makes you think it’s a haunted object?”

“It makes the most sense, to begin with.” Jackson turned and sifted through the box for haunted items. “You see, when I was doing…whatever it is I do, I saw a painting.”

Derek raised an eyebrow. “You saw a painting?” Jackson nodded enthusiastically. “In someone’s home? You saw a painting, in someone’s home?”

“That’s not the crazy part,” Jackson said and grabbed a book. He flipped through the pages and slammed it down on the table. Stiles woke with a snort. “This is the painting I saw.”

While Derek looked at the picture in the book, Jackson grabbed another, freezing when Derek snarled. He turned around, the anger was back in Derek’s eyes that glowed red. He didn’t know what he had done wrong. He told Derek that he would be staying up late and wouldn’t be in bed that night.

Unfortunately, Jackson knew he was a little bit like Stiles. Once he had questions, he didn’t stop until they were answered. He needed to know what was coming to Beacon Hills and how to destroy it. Until he read a certain book, he didn’t even know that spirits could be forced to move on.

“It’s been _three_ days,” Derek said, dropping the books he held.

“Oh.” It was all Jackson could say. “And you were checking up on—”

“I was checking on you because you missed meals,” Derek snapped. “You didn’t even notice when Stiles left. I figured, let him have this. He’s trying to do something good for the town. But then you went full non-existent!”

Jackson lowered his head, pushing down the guilt and sadness. He let Derek’s anger washed through him and stay. “It got results, didn’t it?” he asked and looked up. “We know what we’re dealing with and how to get rid of it. You will _not_ make me feel guilty about doing something good!”

“That isn’t it, Jackson.” Derek’s hands became fists, his claws digging into his flesh. “I’m glad you want to help and protect the town,” he went on. His calmness was forced, even Stiles could see that. The bright red eyes probably didn’t help. “But you don’t just go non-existent without telling me!”

Jackson went to fight back, but stopped and nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I didn’t think.”

“Aww, that’s adorable,” Stiles said as Derek hugged Jackson tightly, nuzzling his ear. “But could you keep it down? Some of us are trying to sleep.” He laid down and opened a book, placing it over his shoulder like a blanket.

Jackson slumped against Derek, the last three days catching up to him. He wanted to tell Derek everything he had learned, but when Derek picked him up, he just wrapped his legs around his waist. He was carried out of the room and to the loft, placed gently on the bed.

“Derek.” The alpha stopped and looked back. “I am, you know.” Derek frowned. “Sorry. I really didn’t mean for it to happen.”

“I know, Jackson. That’s the problem. You just did it without thinking. Don’t let that state of being be the one you default to. Get some sleep. You look like shit.”

“Fuck you,” Jackson muttered and pulled the covers up. “I left my notes down there,” he said as Derek went for the loft door. “And take a blanket and pillow down for Stiles. And if you wake him, there will be hell.”

Jackson smirked as Derek muttered under his breath, but did as he was told. If Derek was like that after just a scenting, he wondered how whipped both of them would be after they were actually mated.

* * *

When Jackson woke, he was alone in the loft. His heart was thudding in his chest and he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from fear or lust. Closing his eyes, Jackson panted and tried to think of something else, aside from the dream. He needed to calm down before Derek ran up there and demanded to know what was wrong.

Sitting up, Jackson ran his hands through his hair. It had started out as a nice dream, Derek’s hands and mouth on his skin, but then it became a nightmare. Blood everywhere and a knife in the hand of a child, standing over their bed. She was young, probably no older than eight. Her blue eyes were cold and filled with so much hate that it hurt to be around her.

A shiver ran down his spine as Derek sent comfort to him and ignited more of the lust in his system. He stared at the door to the bedroom, counting down. Five…four…three…two… There he was. Derek’s eyes were dark and Jackson didn’t know if he wanted to do anything about it. His mind was still on the little girl that could possess people to murder. He definitely knew that Derek didn’t like him thinking about anything else, aside from Derek, when they were intimate.

“No,” Jackson said as Derek prowled up the bed, pulling his legs straight. “I might be horny, but my mind is definitely elsewhere.”

Derek tore the covers from Jackson’s body. “I could put your mind on me.”

Jackson cocked an eyebrow and slipped his hands under the pillow. “Okay. Give it a shot. But just so you know, I’m thinking about a murderous little girl that possesses people to do her bidding,” he said and Derek sighed.

“That just killed me,” Derek muttered, but didn’t move. “We need to complete the mating ritual.”

“I know.” Jackson looked at the window, judging it to be early afternoon. “How about tomorrow, we send the kids and Uncle Peter off, so we can enjoy ourselves?”

Derek lowered his body over Jackson’s, kissing him gently. “Think you can get a murderous little girl from your mind long enough?”

Jackson grinned and changed their position. He nuzzled at Derek’s throat. “Tomorrow, I plan to have nothing but you on my mind.” He smiled as Derek tilted his head back and ran his tongue along the skin. He pulled back, sitting on Derek’s thighs. “How’s Stiles?”

“I sent him home about an hour ago.” Derek placed a hand behind his head, the other running up Jackson’s thigh. “He wasn’t needed, thanks to your notes.”

Jackson moved up Derek’s body, giving him better reach of his torso. He inhaled through his teeth as Derek’s hand slipped under his shirt. “Then you know what we need to do?”

Derek grazed his nails over the scar on Jackson’s side. “About which thing? The possessed painting or…the fun thing tomorrow?”

Jackson froze and lowered his eyes, biting his lower lip. “Both?” he offered, knowing that Derek would hear the lie if he said the mating.

Derek pulled his hand back and glared. “You forgot already?” He shook his head and moved Jackson to the side, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Don’t worry about tomorrow.”

Jackson knelt behind Derek, reaching to place a hand on his shoulder. “Derek,” he said quietly. He stopped when Derek gave a low growl. It was a warning.

“You have no idea how hard it is,” Derek said, his head dropping. “Every time I’m in the same room as you, I just want to claim you.”

“I’m sorry,” Jackson said, keeping his eyes on the bed. “You might be used to all this stuff, but I’m—”

“Do you have any fucking idea how it feels to be second-best to _dead people_?” Derek demanded, glaring over his shoulder. “Our first kiss, you’re thinking about a murdered girl. And now, I can’t get your attention for one goddamn hour, because of a ghost girl!”

“No, I don’t know how it feels,” Jackson said, keeping his eyes down. The last thing he wanted to do was anger his alpha further. “I’ll be yours entirely tomorrow.”

Derek sighed and gave a humorless laugh. “No, you won’t. You’ll forget or go non-existent again.” He shook his head. “Get out.”

Jackson winced. Usually, his chest felt like it was constricting around his heart. Now, it felt as though it was being crushed. “Derek…”

“Get out,” Derek snapped.

“Okay.” Jackson slipped off the bed and pulled on his shoes, leaving the bedroom. He left the loft quickly, not sure which one he was meant to leave.

Jackson made his way to the center of town. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but as he moved, he realized. He was going home. He swallowed, trying to move the lump in his throat as he went up to the front door and knocked on it.

The door opened and David stood there, his eyes widening when he saw Jackson. He got over his shock quickly and pulled him inside, hugging him tightly. Jackson closed his eyes, enjoying the fatherly embrace. His mother came out, wanting to see who it was and she gasped, running over to him.

“Mom!” Jackson choked out and hugged her. When he felt her arms around him, he broke down and cried on her shoulder.

“I’ll make some tea,” David said quietly.

“Come to the living room, sweetheart,” his mom coaxed gently, not letting up on the hug. “What happened, Jackson?”

Jackson just sobbed as his mother petted his hair, handing him tissues every so often. He wasn’t even sure why he was crying. The rejection of Derek wasn’t that bad. He’d received worse from Lydia when they were dating. This one just felt far more personal and powerful.

Once he had finished wailing like a child with a skinned knee, Jackson pulled back. He blew his nose and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said and sipped his cold tea. “I didn’t know where else to go.”

“Derek hasn’t kicked you out of the pack, has he?” David asked, staring at his son’s red eyes. Jackson shook his head. “He didn’t reject you as his mate, did he?”

“How…how do you know about that?” Jackson asked with a frown.

“His uncle explained it to us, last month, I think.” David thought back and nodded. “Around then. Said you were doing much better. That you and Derek were getting much closer.”

“And you are doing so much better,” his mother said, brushing a stray tear from his cheek. “I’ve missed you, sweetheart.” She hugged him again. “But what did happen?”

“It’s a crazy story. Basically, I’ve been a little preoccupied with some stuff going on. Derek wants to complete the bond, but I can’t seem to…” Jackson bit his lower lip and his father nodded. “I made plans to complete it tomorrow and forgot about it, about a minute later.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” his mother said, her emotions controlled. “You should never let something take all your attention. Derek seems like such a nice boy. Not as nice as Danny, though.”

Jackson laughed, more tears trickling from his eyes. “I love Danny, Mom. But I don’t _love_ him. I wasn’t even aware that I loved Derek until this morning.”

“You stay here for as long as you want or need, Jackson,” his father said as Jackson finished his tea. “As long as we don’t find you doing more tests on yourself.”

Jackson looked up and shook his head. “They’ve all been done.” He sniffed and wiped his eyes again. “I am sorry you both had to see that, though. That was very callous of me.”

“We knew something was wrong for a while, Jackson,” his mother said, running her fingers through his hair. “We just didn’t know what to do. We’re glad that you’re getting better, though.”

“Are you eating yet?” his father asked and Jackson nodded. “We can have Italian tonight, then. I’ve been dying for vegetarian lasagna.”

Jackson smiled, nodding again. He was also looking forward to it.

\--

That night, Jackson laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling. His room hadn’t changed at all. He made sure the windows were closed, before he undressed and showered. Nothing had changed. His parents seemed to forget that he had cut off body parts in front of them, though he did notice the change of countertops in the kitchen.

His parents had gone to bed two hours ago and Jackson rolled over, curling into himself. He tried to ignore the lonely feeling. He felt hollow inside and he wasn’t sure if that was because he was away from his pack or his mate or both. He just wanted to get back to the loft and… He didn’t know what to do. All he knew was that he had to wait for Derek to calm down.

Jackson fell asleep, cold and alone.

\--

A knock on his bedroom door roused him from an uneasy slumber. Rolling over, Jackson frowned and tried to understand what woke him. The knock sounded again and he called out, hearing his mother’s voice telling him that breakfast was ready. Jackson yawned and stretched, before he went about his daily routine of becoming a well-groomed werewolf in disguise.

Breakfast is done and he went upstairs, while his parents went to work. He looked into the painting, remembering the name. He heard the heartbeat and glanced at his window, seeing Isaac there. The lanky werewolf smiled and slipped into the bedroom.

“What happened? Derek took us down for training and…”

Jackson’s eyes widened when he saw the still healing bruises on Isaac’s neck and face. He snarled and slammed his laptop screen down. He lifted Isaac’s shirt and saw scratches. Blood running cold, Jackson left his room and ran to the loft, Isaac barely a step behind him.

“It’s okay, Jackson,” Isaac said as they rounded corner after corner.

Jackson ignored Isaac’s words, pushing his legs harder. His parents woke up earlier than the pack did, which meant that Derek should still be eating breakfast. He ran up the stairs and shoved the door off its rollers, eyes blazing blue as they landed on Derek.

“ _You_ ,” Jackson snarled, stepping into the loft.

Eyes red and alpha out, Derek stood and glared at Jackson. “I didn’t give you permission to return,” he snapped and Jackson growled. “Don’t push me, Jackson.”

“Oh, you mean like how you pushed your betas yesterday?” Jackson grabbed Isaac and pulled him into the loft. He raised the shirt. “You couldn’t get your dick wet, so you took it out on our _pack_?” he demanded.

“Don’t you lecture me on my pack,” Derek growled. His eyes went to Isaac, who stepped back.

Jackson stormed up to Derek and slapped him. Actually slapped him. “Don’t you take it out on our pack,” he warned, eyes narrowing. “You want to kick the shit out of someone? Kick the shit out of me! Come on, _alpha_.” He made sure he spat the last word out like it was cheap whiskey.

“Jackson,” Erica said quietly, slowly standing and clearly favoring her right leg. “It’s fine. He’ll kill you.”

“I’d like to see him try,” Jackson said. “Come on, Hale. You scared to take on your weakest beta?”

Jackson frowned as Derek reined in his wolf and did the same. Derek grabbed his shoulder and shoved him past the threshold. “Don’t come back until I say you can.”

Looking over his shoulder, Jackson frowned as the betas shook their heads. He lowered his eyes and left the building. They were clearly strong enough to handle whatever Derek threw at them, though he knew Isaac was about to be punished for seeing him. It was just another thing for his atonement book.

* * *

It was a month before Derek sought out Jackson, who had put Danny’s tips to use when it came to hacking. He was able to keep an eye on all shipments arriving in Beacon Hills for the next week. He wanted to make sure the painting didn’t slip past. He definitely wouldn’t forgive himself if that managed to get by him.

Stepping out of his en suite with a towel around his hips, Jackson froze at the second heartbeat. He growled and went to his closet, ignoring Derek entirely. He grabbed his clothes and returned to the en suite, dressing in there. The idea of giving the alpha a show did cross his mind, but he wasn’t going to give the prick the satisfaction.

Dressed, Jackson left the bathroom again and sat at his laptop, checking the shipping manifests. When he saw that the painting wasn’t in any of them, he finally turned to Derek and gazed at him blankly. “What the fuck do you want?”

“You said we had weeks before that painting arrived here,” Derek said, eyes flashing red.

“Yeah, I did. I’ve been handling it. You can go away now.” Jackson swiveled the chair, double-checking the shipping manifest.

The painting should be in Beacon Hills transportation depot by tomorrow morning. With only two security guards doing the rounds, there should be plenty of time to sneak in and get the painting before he was noticed. He could then salt and burn it, providing there was no other link he was missing.

Jackson gasped as his chair was spun around. “Why are you still here?” he asked and shoved Derek back.

“I’m extending an olive branch for you to come home.”

Jackson winced as his wolf practically clawed at him to get into his alpha’s arms. “Fuck off,” he said and spun around. “I’ve kinda gotten used to the pain.” He chuckled dryly. “I wonder why I ever let myself trust anyone.”

“Don’t start, Jackson.”

Jackson’s eyes widened and he spun around, punching Derek across the jaw. While the alpha picked himself up, Jackson glared down at him. “Go to hell. I opened myself up to you and the pack. What did I get? You throwing me out of the loft and stopping the pack from seeing me! I denoun—”

Derek slapped a hand over Jackson’s mouth. “Don’t. If you denounce me, I cannot take you back. And don’t do anything while you’re angry. Please, come home.”

Jackson pulled his mouth free. “I am home.”

“Can I at least explain why I left you alone for a month?” Derek asked as he stepped back.

Jackson sat down and shrugged. “Go ahead. I won’t be listening, though.” He spun around and checked the schedules for the guards.

“I was about to rape you,” Derek said and Jackson’s hands froze. He turned around and stared at Derek. “I thought that would get your attention.” Derek sighed softly and sat on the bed. “I know you’re all about helping people, especially now that it’s become part of your role, but the longer we went without being…”

Jackson frowned as Derek was practically blushing. “Without being intimate with each other,” he filled in with a roll of his eyes, pulling a foot onto the edge of the chair, swinging side to side lazily. “I’m sorry. I didn’t feel the need as bad as you did.”

“That’s why I sent you away. That’s why I didn’t want the pack near you. They’d bring your scent home with them and it would make me lose my damn mind.” Derek glared at the floor.

Jackson tilted his head. “You could’ve said something, instead of just telling me to get out. Do you have any idea how much that hurt? I…I actually came home and cried on my mother’s fucking shoulder, thinking I’d been the worst mate in the world!”

“Jackson?” His mother walked in and jumped, seeing Derek on the bed. “Oh, I’m sorry. I thought you were yelling at your reflection again.”

Jackson closed his eyes and heard Derek standing. “What?”

“I’m not sure I should say. I think I’ve said too much already,” his mother said and Jackson just nodded at her. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. You’re free to stay for dinner, Derek.”

“Thank you, Missus Whittemore. I just might.” The door closed and Jackson sighed, knowing Derek was directly in front of him. “What did she mean?”

Jackson opened his eyes, staring at Derek blankly. “I just told you. I thought I was the worst mate in the world. I made sure to remind myself of it, every single time I saw my reflection.”

Derek’s eyes softened and Jackson felt himself melting internally. The moment Derek’s fingers brushed over his cheek, he looked away. “You’re not the worst mate in the world,” Derek said gently, pressing his lips to Jackson’s throat. “I am.”

“You’re not that bad,” Jackson said, wishing he could still be angry. He knew they were both a little messed up. “I’m sorry.”

Derek nuzzled his way under Jackson’s chin and stayed there. “Don’t be. I’m the one who should be apologizing.”

“So why aren’t you?” Jackson frowned and tilted his head. “Derek? Do you even know how to apologize?”

“I’m sorry,” Derek finally said. “I really didn’t want to hurt you.”

Jackson remained silent, staring ahead. “How is our pack?” he asked after a few minutes of their heartbeats filling the silence.

“Missing you. Apparently, Peter can’t make French toast worth a damn.” Derek pulled back and stared at Jackson. “Oddly enough, Erica was the one that missed you the most. I thought for sure it would be Isaac.”

Jackson rolled his eyes. “She just wants to kick my ass again,” he said with a smile. He glanced at his laptop and closed it. “Show me how much you missed me.”

Derek stepped back and frowned. “What?”

Jackson stood up and pushed Derek back, smirking when he fell onto the bed. He pulled his shirt off and slipped his hands under Derek’s, feeling as though all those lonely nights were banished from his system. “I said,” he murmured, raising the shirt and kissing beside the navel. “Show me how much you missed me.”

Derek glanced at the door and Jackson felt his anxiety. Rolling his eyes, he got up and locked his bedroom door. “And the noise?” Derek asked, his heart racing.

“Are you fucking serious?” Jackson shook his head and grabbed a pillow. “They’re human. If you do manage to make me scream, I can scream into this. How’s that?”

“Isn’t this a little rushed?”

“Really?” Jackson inhaled deeply, trying to control his anger. “I’ve gone a month without you, your touches, your scent or even your emotions. You have no idea how close I was to becoming non-existent again.” He sighed and lowered his eyes. “My parents actually had to ask me to stop touching them.”

“I’m sorry, Jackson. But rushing into the mating…it isn’t something I want to do.”

Jackson closed his eyes, counting to ten. When he opened them, he grabbed Derek’s jaw and glared into his eyes. “That painting arrives at two tomorrow morning. And that’s going to be my sole focus for most of the night. So, we can either do it now, while we have a few hours to enjoy each other, or you have to rape me when it becomes too much for you again.”

“And dinner?”

“Can be reheated.”

Derek glanced at the door, still seeming undecided. Jackson moved up his body, nuzzling his throat. A small noise of content left Derek’s mouth and Jackson placed soft kisses along his jaw, nipping under his ear. Moving across his face, Jackson kissed Derek gently, realizing that he had really missed the feel of Derek’s lips.

Jackson pulled back slightly and moved Derek’s shirt, smiling when it was pulled off. His hands ghosted over Derek’s torso, Jackson grinning when Derek arched up, knowing that, despite it being rushed, they wanted it. A hand moved between Derek’s denim clad thighs, gently massaging the rapidly growing bulge.

There was a soft sound and Jackson looked up, finding Derek watching him. Derek’s legs moved and Jackson heard his boots hitting the floor as he undid the belt. Jackson popped the button and pulled down the zipper, going to Derek’s waist and running his tongue around the skin. He bit the flesh and Derek gasped, glancing at the door for a moment. Jackson licked the teeth marks, watching them disappear.

Derek raised his hips and Jackson pulled the jeans and briefs off, letting them fall somewhere on the floor. His wolf whined and yearned to pleasure its mate. Jackson tilted his head slightly, gazing at the leg that was Derek’s cock. He ran his fingertips down the underside lightly, watching the way it twitched, demanding more contact.

Lowering his head, Jackson ran his tongue along the veins. “Jackson,” Derek growled and the beta looked up, cocking an eyebrow. “Don’t force your—”

“Derek,” Jackson said, a cocky smile on his face. “My ass might be a virgin, but my mouth is not.”

Derek’s eyes widened in surprise and Jackson easily took the head of his cock into his mouth. The surprise vanished and a low growl sounded through the room. Jackson kept his eyes on Derek’s, loving the way the eyes kept flashing red. His tongue molded to the underside of the rather large cock and his throat opened easily. He had learned that, just to tease Danny when he claimed Jackson wasn’t his type.

While he had never done it on an actual dick before, Derek seemed to really appreciate him learning that. Jackson could feel his own cock straining against his jeans. While he had never been penetrated, he could feel his ass begging for that cock and Jackson wasn’t sure if it was because Derek was his mate or something else.

A gentle tug on his hair made Jackson lift it, frowning at Derek. He was definitely enjoying giving his mate oral pleasure, but Derek sat up and attached his mouth to Jackson’s throat. Head falling back, Jackson bit his lower lip as Derek’s tongue, teeth and lips worked the pale flesh. The hand sliding down his body was hot and calloused, making him arch into the touch. Everything Derek did was perfect.

Derek laid Jackson on the bed, both pausing when footsteps approached his door. “Not now. We’re busy,” Jackson yelled and the footsteps retreated.

Chuckling, Derek placed hot kisses down Jackson’s torso. He pulled back, gazing at the scars, before he leaned down and kissed the exit scar of the arrow. Jackson gasped quietly, Derek’s hand between his legs and thumb running along his straining cock, making him shudder.

His jeans were undone and removed from his body. Derek’s hand slid under the thigh of his left leg, running along the scars from the alpha. Jackson exhaled sharply as Derek’s nails ran across them, as though making sure they were still there. Jackson wasn’t going to lose the scars, he didn’t want to. He needed them as a reminder of how far down he sank and how far up he had to fight and claw.

The leg was lowered slowly and Derek’s tongue was on his cock, making Jackson bite his lower lip. He couldn’t look away from Derek’s eyes, could stop seeing the pleasure he received from pleasing his mate. Jackson assumed he had the same twinkle in his own eyes when he made Derek feel good.

Jackson’s hand found Derek’s hair as his dick was swallowed. He breathed Derek’s name shakily, not wanting to blow his load like a virgin in the backseat of a car on a first date. Derek pulled back and licked his way up Jackson’s torso, the tongue like fire. He raised his right leg, resting it against Derek’s waist. The kiss was gentle, the taste of each other on the other’s tongue as it was deepened and Derek pushed into Jackson slowly.

The werewolf healing kicked in and Jackson bit his lower lip, lowering his eyes as the first pain was just a bit too much for him. As it was his alpha, the sting hung around a little longer, but Derek was more than happy to be seated and wait. Jackson gripped the powerful shoulders, breathing heavily and taking in Derek’s scent. A final push and Jackson’s back arched, his claws burying into Derek’s shoulders.

There was no pain. His mind was focused solely on being like this every minute of every day, connected and fulfilled by his mate. Derek’s mouth was hot on his throat and jaw and Jackson forced his body to relax. While that initial fit was mind-blowing, he knew the rest would be, as well.

The movements were fluid and Jackson stared at Derek, their eyes creating that bond. Derek’s red and Jackson’s blue as their wolves met and rolled with each other, whining and loving. Derek’s hand cupped his cheek, his eyes like a laser on Jackson’s, as though he was terrified he’d miss something.

Jackson couldn’t turn from those eyes. The eyes that had haunted him for so long. At one stage, the same bright blue of his own and now the red of the alpha. Those eyes that had searched his soul and left him wanting. Now, they searched him and left him needing. Needing everything from the gentle touches, to the light kisses, to the scent of his mate surrounding him.

The movements of Derek in him had him shuddering, leaning into the hand that held his face. The bond built and Jackson could feel something wrap around him, held him tight. It was possessive and demanding, but gentle and loving. The warmth ignited him, but the touches cooled him. The feel of Derek so deep in him, pleasuring him in ways he didn’t think imaginable actually made him want to cry with joy.

There was a snap and the movements became almost frenzied. The need to claim and be claimed. The wolves tangled together, the pressure for release. The tender gleam was still in their eyes, both breathing heavily. Eyes sparkled brighter than possible, claws grew and fangs were descending as the climax reached its summit.

Jackson reached up, burying his fangs into Derek’s neck. The moment the alpha’s blood spilled over his tongue, his scream muffled by the skin in his mouth, he came hard. The same bite on his neck had Derek joining him, seconds later. They collapsed, exhausted and sated for the moment.

Removing his fangs, Jackson frowned as he saw the scars left behind. His visual claim on Derek. He knew he would be sporting the same scars, on his right side. He would be Derek’s right hand until one or both of them died.

Jackson smiled and ran his hands through Derek’s hair as the alpha shuddered, removing his cock from his mate. The painting flitted through his mind, but he cast it aside, enjoying Derek’s weight on him, the fast breathing and the way Derek’s fingers ghosted over his throat.

“Mine,” he breathed into Derek’s ear, a gentle moan greeting him.

“Yes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it. If you did, drop a line or a kudos.
> 
> Aria_Slytherin12thGen: I know right? I've already got ideas rolling around my head about Jackson and Chris spending time together, torturing and cleaning up. I think it'd be a sweet story. Thanks for your comment. It made my day! I hope you enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> Until the next one!
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska.


	14. Happiness

**~Hear Me Cry~**

**By:** Aerys Krystie.

* * *

Happiness

Scott stared at Jackson, as though he was insane. Jackson stared back blankly, not understanding what was so difficult about the plan. They had an hour before the painting was arriving and he wanted to destroy it before it got loose in the town. It would be easier to do it while it was being unloaded, before the postal service got involved.

Maybe it was the breaking and entering part that Scott had an issue with. Jackson didn’t know and he didn’t care. Destroying that painting was the only thing on his mind. _Stiles_ was on board, so why wasn’t Scott? Jackson didn’t need either of them, but they had been at the loft when he and Derek finally returned. And it didn’t hurt to have a couple extra people know about the painting.

“Look, I’ve got the key code for the door. I just need someone to keep a lookout, in case the guards make their rounds. The longest part will be searching for the painting an—”

“What’s so bad about a painting?” Stiles asked and Jackson frowned, forgetting that he hadn’t told Scott or Stiles about the painting or what he’d seen. He wasn’t allowed to see either of them, for that month-long break.

Straightening, Jackson stared at Derek. “Did you tell anyone _anything_ about what was arriving?” he demanded. Derek opened his mouth and Jackson narrowed his eyes. “Don’t lie,” he added with clenched teeth.

“I was a little occupied with training,” Derek said and Jackson sighed.

“You remember what we were researching?” Jackson asked Stiles and the human nodded. “There’s a pissed off spirit attached to the painting. She possesses people to have them murder.”

Scott stared at Jackson. “That’s insane,” he said simply with a shrug.

“And werewolves and wendigos aren’t?” Jackson snapped. When Scott didn’t have an answer for him, Jackson went on. “As long as she doesn’t have another link to this world, burning the painting should work.”

Stiles grabbed the book that Jackson had brought up, looking at the picture of the painting. It wasn’t very pricey and no one should miss it. It was a large oil painting of a family. All of them blond, except one little girl that had black hair and cold blue eyes. Jackson knew he should feel sympathy, she was clearly adopted into the family. He should feel some kind of kindred emotion, as he had been used as a killer when he didn’t know his place. But he didn’t and he didn’t care.

“She’s so young,” Stiles muttered, a touch of sorrow to his voice. “What could make someone so young a killer?”

Jackson raised his eyes, meeting Derek’s. The two werewolves that had the blue eyes from taking an innocent life. Jackson had an answer ready, as he knew someone was bound to ask the question. He didn’t want to say it, because it would sound trite.

“Some people are just born rotten,” he said and looked down. “Some people just have that lust for blood.”

“She had been adopted into the family only a few months before the house burned down, killing her and the family,” Stiles said, reading the description of the painting. The only thing that survived the fire. It was completely untouched.

Jackson closed his eyes as he felt the eyes on him. He sighed and straightened, glaring around at the werewolves. “I was a puppet,” he told them. “I haven’t taken an innocent life since I became a werewolf.” He shivered as warmth wrapped around his core. Shaking his head, Jackson drank the peppermint tea that was cooling. “But she has and she uses innocents to do it.”

The others went silent, glancing between each other as though none of them knew what to say. Finally, Erica asked, “So, who do you need?”

Jackson smiled at her. “I want whoever is available. Stiles, do you still have those matches?”

Stiles’ eyes widened and fear surrounded him as he glanced at Derek. The alpha just glared at him, but said nothing about knowing of the setting Jackson on fire. “Yeah, I got them.”

“Good. I also need you to bring the gas you used on me.” Derek growled and Stiles jumped to his feet. “Stop it,” Jackson said, staring at Derek. “Take them somewhere to the forest. We’ll meet you there. Take Isaac with you. He’ll feel any changes more than you.”

Peter raised an eyebrow. “Someone’s taken to being a leader,” he said with a smirk.

“Former captain of the lacrosse team,” Jackson stated. “You can stay here. I doubt we’d need your old ass slowing us down.”

Peter’s eyes widened and he stood up, glaring at Jackson. “Look here, pup,” he snapped, eyes flashing blue.

Jackson rose, challenging. “You really think you can do anything to me, grandpa?”

Peter reached for him, but Jackson grabbed his arm, dislocating the shoulder and slamming his face onto the table. The mugs fell to the ground, spilling their contents. Jackson growled as he could smell his peppermint tea going to waste. He wanted to rip Peter apart, leaving him scattered around the town, but Derek’s eyes flashed red and the pair of them stood back.

While Isaac and Stiles cleaned up the spilled drinks, Derek stood in front of Jackson and Peter. “You’re better than that, Jackson,” he said and Jackson ducked his head, knowing it was true. There was no need for him to attack Peter. “As for you,” he said as he turned to Peter. “That’s my mate. If you ever try to attack him again, I will let him do whatever he wants to you.”

Jackson felt a cruel grin spread over his face as he looked at Peter from the corner of his eye. Peter shifted the weight on his feet slightly, unseen by most eyes, but enough for Jackson to know that Peter was a little scared of him. It was enough to have him lifting his head, still grinning in that same feral way, eyes blue. The expression was enough to have the others stopping their work to stare at him.

Just ten minutes alone with Peter and being allowed to do whatever he wanted had a pleasurable shudder running through Jackson. He wanted to make the older werewolf suffer for what he had done to Derek, taking Laura so cruelly from the world. Peter could claim it was a broken bond, but there was a difference between that and actively hunting down his own niece because he wanted to be an alpha.

Various methods of torture ran through Jackson’s mind and he knew Derek had seen them, as even he began to stare at Jackson like he was insane. Not being non-existent seemed to scare Derek more than when Jackson didn’t feel anything. Maybe it was because revenge hadn’t crossed his mind. Maybe it was because Jackson had a bit of a bloodlust for those that hurt his mate. Maybe it was because Derek knew that if Jackson really wanted to, he couldn’t stop him from hurting anyone.

“The painting,” Stiles said quietly and Jackson blinked, the grin dropping from his face as he gazed at Stiles. “It’ll be arriving soon.”

“Reyes, Boyd, you’re with me at the depot.” Jackson turned and grabbed his jacket, looking over his shoulder. “Derek, you’re here with the grandpa. Make sure he doesn’t fuck this up for us.”

Derek’s eyes widened. “What?”

“If he fucks this up for us, innocent people will die. You’re the alpha. It’s your job to make sure that doesn’t happen,” Jackson said as he pulled on his jacket, the others moving to the loft door. “Consider this payback for me missing out on the wendigo.”

“Jackson…” Derek’s eyes narrowed in warning, but Jackson just shrugged. He wasn’t backing down from his decision and he knew more about the warehouse layout than Derek did. After a short silence, Derek sighed. “Be careful,” he said and kissed Jackson’s forehead.

Jackson smirked and fixed his jacket. “You brought my soul back, Derek. Don’t worry about me.”

Turning to follow the others, Jackson waved as Derek stared after him. He knew he should have mentioned that earlier, but the chance didn’t arise and he was just grateful to have the pain finally gone completely. He jumped into the backseat of Stiles’ jeep, as Erica took the passenger. He checked the back and found that Stiles still had everything needed in there.

The drive to the depot was done in silence. Jackson ran the code through his mind over and over again, thinking about where the shipments were placed. It shouldn’t take more than a few minutes to find a box big enough to store a large oil painting.

The silence was broken as Jackson cried out, pain shooting through his eyes to the back of his skull. It came from nowhere, but it refused to go away. Boyd, sitting beside him, tried asking what was wrong. Jackson wasn’t sure, but somehow he knew that the spirit was out. She was about to make another kill. He could feel Derek wrapping around him, taking the pain.

Opening his eyes, Jackson gritted his teeth. He reached around the passenger seat, going into the glove department and grabbed the packet of tissues. He wiped his eyes, growling at the blood on the white paper. He blinked and sat back, knowing he had to learn how to shield his mind from attacks like that. He couldn’t count on Derek to take the pain every time some supernatural creature went on an attack.

Stiles parked a block from the depot, the werewolves slipping out. “Be ready,” Jackson told Stiles and Isaac. “She’ll be angry with us.”

“Be careful,” Isaac said and hugged Jackson quickly. “We can’t lose you again, man.”

Isaac pulled back and closed the door, leaving Jackson to frown after them. He hadn’t really done anything, but he shrugged and joined Erica and Boyd. They made the trip to the warehouse quickly, hearing guns firing. Jackson broke from them and punched in the code for the door, using the sleeve of his jacket to keep his prints from the handle.

Running through the warehouse, Jackson made his way over to the delivery section. The truck was still idling, but blood was thick in the air. One of the guards was calling the police department and Jackson jumped into the truck, searching through the boxes. He wasn’t expecting the spirit to attack the moment she came across some body she could possess. He expected her to wait a couple more minutes, at the very least.

A stray bullet whizzed by his ear and Jackson ducked slightly, still moving through the boxes. He found one that was from the southern hemisphere and his eyes lit up. He could hear Erica muttering, ‘Hurry up, Captain.’ He ripped the lid off the box and pulled out the straw packing material. He moved onto the next box, ducking behind it as another bullet was fired at him. He looked over and found that the security guard had his pistol drawn, shooting into the truck. There was a slight waver to the face, showing him that the man wasn’t in control of his actions.

The security guard stepped onto the truck and Jackson searched the box, finally finding the painting. He grabbed it and used it to stop another bullet that was fired at him. The last thing he needed was the sheriff’s department finding his blood at a crime scene. There was only so much that Sheriff Stilinski could do after that.

Shoving the guard back, Jackson ran past him and out the door. He met up with Erica and Boyd and the three of them ran through the town. Sirens were heading for the warehouse and Jackson wished they had gotten there sooner, to hopefully save the other guard. They split up, deciding to take different routes to the woodland. Thankfully, Stiles and Isaac had strong scents to follow.

They merged together in front of a small fire that Stiles and Isaac got going. Jackson threw the boxed painting onto the flames, actually having to shield his eyes as it went up in near white flames. There was a scream that pierced through them. It was over. The chill on his spine was gone, so he sent the others home. He could wait until the painting was completely destroyed.

Jackson stared into the flames of the fire, which had dulled significantly after that first blaze. He watched as the oil from the painting bubbled and melted, distorting the faces of the subjects. He should have gotten there sooner. The other guard would still be alive if he hadn’t gotten angry with Peter.

There was another heartbeat and Jackson glared over his shoulder. “I said go ho…” He trailed off at the red eyes that flashed at him. “Oh. I’m just making sure it doesn’t come back.”

Derek nodded as he stepped into the light of the fire. He stood beside Jackson, watching as the canvas became ash. “They told me what happened,” he said softly and Jackson glared at the flames. “Don’t blame yourself.”

Jackson nodded, not looking from the fire. He would tell Derek anything he wanted to hear, but he couldn’t shake the guilt. It was the same with the victims of the wendigo and the first victim he saw of the spirit. He knew he couldn’t do anything, but he would still feel as though he should have done _something_ to help them.

He tensed as Derek wrapped an arm around his shoulder, pulling him close. “You’re stronger than you think, Jacks,” he said gently and Jackson relaxed under the arm. “You waited until now to break down and that’s what a leader does.”

Jackson refused to think of all the times he had failed his team on the field, when they would lose. After Coach Finstock tore into them, Jackson would lay in another round of degradation. Everything he ever said to them, he was saying to himself just as much. Once he was alone, he would sit and think – think about what he could have done differently to help the team.

Now, it was the same problem. His pack had done their jobs perfectly. He was the one that had fucked up and an innocent had lost their life. A family had lost their father. What was he doing? Watching a painting burn, while his mate tried to pick him up. He was Jackson Whittemore! He was meant to be the one that lifted others, instead of being the broken bitch on the floor of the locker room.

Still, even as that thought flitted through his mind, Jackson pressed into Derek’s side more. He shivered as a thumb ran over his neck, tracing where the scars once were. He had been meaning to ask Derek about that. He could think of a dozen other people that would be better suited for his mate, which didn’t do much for his old self’s self-esteem issues. As he was now, Jackson didn’t have those in the buckets he previously did. He still felt like a failure.

“You’re not,” Derek murmured into Jackson’s hair. “You can’t save them all.”

Jackson flinched, knowing the words were true. He lowered his eyes, feeling a tear fall from his lower lashes. He raised his eyes, glaring at the fire. He had wanted to stop a massacre in Beacon Hills and technically, he had done that. The painting and the spirit were gone. She couldn’t hurt anyone again, but the guard was just another for his atonement book. Just another funeral he needed to attend so he could apologize for his failure.

* * *

The one thing Jackson figured he’d never want to relearn was depression. His life had felt so good for the few hours of, during and after mating with Derek. Now, his appetite was gone and he couldn’t sleep without seeing faces. The victims of the kanima, the wendigo and the angry spirit haunted him. Even with Derek by his side, Jackson still felt the nightmares creeping in. He didn’t want Derek to lose sleep, so he just stayed awake most days. Only when he was fully exhausted, too tired to dream, would he let his body shut down.

His mood was affecting Derek, as well. The alpha didn’t say anything and tried to act as though everything was normal, but Jackson could see the worry in his eyes every time they looked at each other. There were more tender touches and Jackson was feeling worse. Derek was doing everything in his power to make him feel better and he was sinking further into a dark hole of despair.

It was time to deal with the nightmares.

Derek slipped into bed, while Jackson forced himself to eat some leftover Chinese. It was the only night of the week when Derek wasn’t up for most of the night. The only night of the week where he and Jackson could cuddle for hours, talking about nothing and everything, relearning each other’s bodies and maybe have some adult time, providing the others were asleep.

Sitting on a counter, Jackson had his back to Peter, who was still in the living area, watching a movie. He stared out the window, across the street as he ate the fried rice. It wasn’t all that late, but he knew that Derek was waiting for him in bed. He didn’t want to talk to him while Peter was still awake. The less Peter knew about him, the better.

The noise of the TV and the beating hearts faded away to silence as Jackson strained his ears. There was something happening. He didn’t know what it was and it definitely wasn’t at threat, but he had heard something. He could _feel_ something.

Just as Erica and Boyd returned, the fried rice dropped from Jackson’s hands as he went into his mind. There was a door he had noticed before, one that stood out to him. It was a beautiful dark brown with a gold knocker, being held in a bear’s mouth. He had wanted to open it, but it wasn’t the door he was looking for at the time. He needed to know if it led where he thought it did.

Running past doors, Jackson frowned. The one he needed wasn’t where he thought it would be. The doors whirled by, their colors mixing and becoming indiscernible. They all became one, until it stopped and the door he was looking for was in front of him. He felt his heartrate increase as he approached it, not knowing what it did.

Opening the door, Jackson found billions of threads, all brown in color. There was one that was bright red and throbbed, like a vein pumping blood. Hesitantly, hand shaking, he touched the thread and cried out as pain erupted over his body, starting from his ankle and ending at his throat. What he saw made him scream, whether with pain or fear or both was unknown, but he snapped back to himself, not closing the door.

Jackson forced his eyes open, knowing his tears were mixing with his blood. He stared into the concerned eyes of his pack. Swallowing, he winced as his throat felt bruised and touched it. When he pulled his hand back, there was nothing on it, but he knew that what he saw was still happening. He didn’t know if he could help, but he would be damned if he was going to lose another innocent life.

Pushing up to his feet, Jackson grabbed a jacket. “I’m going out. I’ll be back in a little bit,” he said and left without any other explanation.

Running from the building, Jackson tried to remember where they were. His eyes widened when the thread appeared in front of him and followed it, taking corners sharply. He could hear two others behind, clearly curious about what happened. Taking on the world alone wasn’t an idea that occurred to him, especially as he knew he was stronger with Derek by his side. That didn’t change the fact that Derek couldn’t help with his current problem.

His lungs seared as breathing became a challenge. His throat was bruising more and he pushed his legs harder, refusing to arrive too late again. He crashed through the woodland, ignoring everything that caught and scratched him, letting one particularly needy branch have his jacket. He kept running, the thread getting brighter the closer he got. He kept running until he found he couldn’t.

Looking over his shoulder, Jackson frowned at the trap on his ankle. His eyes went to the others that were around him and his eyes widened. Some hunter knew about Mama Bear and her cub, which just raised his anger. He opened the trap and picked his way through the others, finding Mama Bear caught in two. Her cub whined and tried nudging her, wanting her to get up.

“Jackson?”

Jackson looked over his shoulder at Derek’s voice. “Stay back,” he said. “There’s traps everywhere.”

Derek stopped and stared at him, watching him closely. Jackson pulled open the trap around Mama Bear’s throat, where she had fallen on it after the pain of having a paw caught in one. The cub looked at him, eyes wide and fearful. Jackson gritted his teeth as Mama Bear’s blood spilled over his hands. He needed Derek to move her.

Knowing what he was thinking, Derek picked his way over to the bear and lifted her head. Jackson threw the trap behind him, setting off another one. He bit his wrist, sucking out the blood and spat it into his hands, smearing it over her wounds. His vision was blurry, but he could see the holes healing over and he swallowed thickly, moving onto her paw.

Again, Derek moved her paw and Jackson made himself bleed. Mama Bear opened her eyes, looking at them, while her cub nuzzled her neck. Jackson sat back, staring at her. She struggled to her feet and pressed her dry nose to Jackson’s cheek. He laughed, ignoring the tears trailing down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as Mama Bear and her cub wandered off, away from the traps.

Jackson looked up as something was dropped on him. Derek’s leather jacket was warm. The alpha gazed at him, eyes soft, filled with compassion and loving awe. “When?”

Sniffling, Jackson brushed a tear from his cheek, ignoring the smear of his and bear blood on it. “I don’t know. I just knew.”

Derek crouched down, cupping Jackson’s blood-smeared cheek. “Something’s come to my attention,” he said quietly and Jackson frowned, tilting his head. “I liked the old you, but I love the new you.”

Jackson frowned, but returned the gentle kiss Derek gave him. An unknown emotion spilled from his mate into him and curled around, making a place in his body. Happy. Pulling back, Jackson stared at Derek, reading those eyes. There was something unbelievable about the way he could see everything Derek was feeling, but joy was definitely the front runner.

“I can’t believe I taught you something,” Jackson said and laughed when Derek ruffled his hair.

“There’s a first time for everything, pup,” Derek said as he pulled Jackson to his feet.

Jackson looked around them, glaring at the traps that had caused an innocent animal so much pain. His moment of glory, reteaching Derek that being happy was okay, was pushed to the side. He wanted to hunt down the monster that had set the traps, but knew it was a human. He sighed softly and looked at Derek, who gave him a smirk.

“Wanna know what’ll make me _really_ happy?” Jackson asked and Derek laughed, practically throwing back his head and howling it.

“I’m pretty sure murder is against a protectors code,” he said when he calmed down and Jackson shrugged.

“I can’t save them all.” Derek narrowed his eyes slightly, but the smile stayed in place. “Fine. Can I at least vandalize his house a little?”

“As long as I can join you.”

Jackson grinned. While they could be curled up in bed, feeling each other, there was something far more bonding about setting off traps and collecting them, walking through a nearly empty town and throwing them through the windows of the hunter that originally placed them. They laughed and ran when the lights turned on, getting back to the loft. The pack was asleep and Jackson kissed Derek.

“Am I pack?”

Derek nuzzled into Jackson’s throat, inhaling deeply and letting a small moan slip. “Definitely.”

* * *

End.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading. Hope y'all enjoyed it. Drop a kudos or a comment if ya did.
> 
> Reddy_no_1: Thanks for the comment! I'm glad you enjoyed the chapters. I was a little sad to see this finished, as well. But I hate leaving stories incomplete. I hope you enjoyed this chapter as well. Thank you being an avid supporter of this story from the beginning.  
> The same above goes to Aria_Slytherin12thGen. You two have made writing this much more fun.
> 
> To everyone that left kudos, thanks so much! I hope this story kept y'all entertained.
> 
> Until the next time!
> 
> Peace and love.  
> Auska.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please leave a kudos.  
> Thoughts? Comments? Questions? Drop a line and I'll respond when I can.
> 
> Peace.  
> Auska


End file.
